Three Men On The Bummel

VISVA-BHARATI

LIBRARY

I I

Presented By

THREE MEN ON THE RUMMEL

Three Men
on the Bummel

BY

JEROME K. JEROME

Illustrated by L. Raven Hill

BRISTOL

J. W. Arrowsmith Ltd., Quay Street
LONDON

SlMPXlN, MATtSHALL, HaUII^TON, KxNT AND CO. LXMITXD

Copyright. Entered at Stationers* Hall

First Edition^ April, 1900.
Reprinted, May, 1900.
Reprinted, October, 1900.
Reprinted, September , 1901.
Reprinted, November, 1905.
Reprinted, December, 1907.
Reprinted, January, 1909.
Reprinted, December, 1910.
Reprinted, March, 1911.
Reprinted, November, 1911.
Second Edition, February, 1914 *
Reprinted, April, 1914.
Reprinted, April, 1916.
Reprinted, June, 1917.
Reprinted, February, 1918.
Reprinted, October, 1918.
Reprinted, January, 1919.
Reprinted, March, 1920.
Reprinted, July, 1922.

TO TllfC GBNTLB

GUIDE

WHO LETS ME KVKR GO MY OWN WAY, YET BRINGS ME RIGKT^

TO THE LAUGHfER-LOVINO

PHILOSOPHER

WHO, IF HE HAS NOT RECOVClLtD ME TO BE^^.INO THK TOOTH \CRK
PATIENTLY, AT LEAST HAS TAUGHT ME THE COMFORT THAT
THIS EVEN WILL ALSO PASS

TO THE GOOD

FRIEND

WHO SMILES WHEN 1 TELL HIM OF MY TROUBLES, AND WHO
WHEN 1 ASK FOR HELP, ANS\VER«i ONLY “ WAIT I

TO THE GRAVE-FACrD

jestp:r

TO ALL HFF- IS BUT A VOLUME OF OLD HUMOUR-

TO GOOD MASTER

xrtmc

THIS LITTLE WORK OF A POOR
PUPIL

IS DEDICATED

I*

Three Men on the Bummel

CHAPTER I

Three men need change — Anecdote showing evil result
of deception — Moral cowardice of George — Harris
has ideas — Yarn of the Ancient Mariner and the
Inexperienced Yachtsman — A hearty crew — Danger
of sailing when the wind is o^ the land — Impossi-
bility of sailing when the wind is off the sea — The
argumentativeness of Ethelbertha — The dampness of
the river — Harris suggests a bicycle tour — George
thinks of the wind — Harris suggests the Black
Forest — George thinks of the hills — Plan adopted by
Harris for ascent of hills — Interruption by Mrs.
Harris.

“ What we want,” said Harris, ” is a change.”

At this moment the door opened, and Mrs. Harris
put her head in to say that Ethelbertha had sent
her to remind me that we must not be late getting
home because of Clarence. Ethelbertha, I am
inclined to think, is unnecessarily nervous about
the children. As a matter of fact, there was nothing
wrong with the child whatever. He had been out
with his aunt that morning ; and if he looks wistfully

10

THKEE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

at a pastrycook's \vindow she takes him inside and
buys him cream buns and " maids-of-honour ” until
he insists that he has had enough, and politely, but
firmly, refuses to eat another anything^ Then, of
course, he wants only one helping of pudding at
lunch, and Ethelbertha thinks he is sickening for
something. Mrs. Harris added that it would be as
well for us to come upstairs soon, on our own
account also, as otherwise we should miss Muriel’s
rendering of " The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party,” out of
Alice in Wonderland. Muriel is Harris’s second, age
eight ; she is a bright, intelligent child ; but I prefer
her myself in serious pieces. We said we would
finish our cigarettes and follow almost immediately ;
we also begged her not to let Muriel begin until
we arrived. She promised to hold the child back
as long as possible, and went. Harris, as soon
as the door was closed, resumed his interrupted
sentence.

“You know what I mean,” he said, “ a complete
change.”

The question was how to get it.

George suggested " business.” It was the sort of
suggestion George would make. A bachelor thinks
a married woman doesn’t know enough to get out of
the way of a steam-roller. I knew a young fellow
once, an engineer, who thought he would go to
Vienna “ on business.” His wife wanted to know
“ what business ? ” He told her It would be his
duty to visit the mines in the neighbourhood of
the Austrian capital, and to make reports. She
said she would go with him ; she was that sort of
woman He tried to dissuade her : he told her that
a mine was no place for a beautiful woman. She
said she felt that herself, and that therefore she did

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

H

not mtend to accompany him down the shafts ; she
would see him off in the morning, and then amuse
herself until his return, looking round the Vienna
shops, and buying a few things she might want.
Having started the idea, he did not see very well
how to get out of it ; and for ten long summer
days he did visit the mines in the neighbourhood
of Vienna, and in the evening wrote reports about
them, which she posted for him to his firm, who
didn't want them.

I should be grieved to think that either Ethel-
bertlia or Mrs. Harris belonged to that class of wife,
but it is as well not to overdo " business ” — it should
be kept for cases of real emergency.

“No,” I said, " the thing is to be frank and manly.
I shall tell Ethelbertha that I have come to the con-
clusion a man never values happiness that is always
with him. I shall tell her that, for the sake of
learning to appreciate my own advantages as I know
they should be appreciated, I intend to tear myself
away from her and tlie children for at least three
weeks. I shall tell her,” I continued, turning to
Harris, “ that it is you who have shown me my duty
in this respect ; that it is to you we shall owe ”

Harris put down his glass rather hurriedly.

” ff you don’t mind, old man,” he interrupted,
*' I 'd really rather you didn’t. She '11 talk it over
with my wife, and— well, I should not be happy,
taking credit tliat I do not deserve.”

" But you do deserve it,” I insisted ; " it was your
suggestion.”

" It was you gave me the idea,” interrupted Harris
again. “ You know you said it was a mistake for
a man to get into a groove, and that unbroken
domesticity cloyed the brain.”

12

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

" I was speaking generally,” I explained.

" It struck me as very apt,” said Harris. " I
thought of repeating it to Clara ; she has a
great opinion of your sense, I know. I am sure
that if ”

” We won’t risk it,” I interrupted, in my turn ;
” it is a delicate matter, and I see a way out of it.
We will say George suggested the idea.”

There is a lack of genial helpfulness about George
that it sometimes vexes me to notice. You would
have thought he would have welcomed the chance
of assisting two old friends out of a dilemma ;
instead, he became disagreeable.

” You do,” said George, ” and I shall tell them
both that my original plan was that we should make
a party — children and all ; that I should bring my
aunt, and that we should hire a charming old chateau
I know of in Normandy, on the coast, where the
cUmate is peculiarly adapted to delicate children,
and the milk such as you do not get in England. I
shall add that you over-rode that suggestion, arguing
we should be happier by ourselves.”

With a man like George kindness is of no use ;
you have to be firm.

” You do,” said Harris, ” and I, for one, will close
with the offei. We will just take that chateau. You
will bring your aunt — I will see to that, — and we
will have a month of it. The children are all fond
of you ; J. and I will be nowhere. You 've promised
to teach Edgar fishing ; and it is you who will have
to play wild beasts. Since last Sunday Dick and
Muriel have talked of nothing else but your hippo-
potamus. We will picnic in the woods — there will
only be eleven of us, — and in the evenings we will
have music and recitations. Muriel is master of six

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL I3

pieces already, as perhaps you know ; and all the
other children are quick studies.”

George climbed down — he has no real courage —
but he did not do it gracefully. He said that if we
were mean and cowardly and false-hearted enough
to stoop to such a shabby trick, he supposed he
couldn’t help it ; and that if I didn’t intend to finish
the whole bottle of claret myself, he would trouble
me to spare him a glass. He also added, somewhat
illogically, that it really did not matter, seeing both
Ethelbertha and Mrs. Harris were women of sense
who would judge him better than to believe
for a moment that the suggestion emanated from
him.

This little point settled, the question was : What
sort of a change ?

Harris, as usual, was for the sea. He said he
knew a yacht, just the very thing — one that we
could manage by ourselves ; no skulking lot of
lubbers loafing about, adding to the expense and
taking away from the romance. Give him a handy
boy, he would sail it himself. We knew that yacht,
and we told him so ; we had been on it with Harris
before. It smells of bilge-water and greens to the
exclusion of all other scents ; no ordinary sea air can
hope to head against it. So far as sense of smell
is concerned, one might be spending a week in
Limehouse Hole. There is no place to get out of
the rain ; the saloon is ten feet by four, and half of
that is taken up by a stove, which falls to pieces
when you go to light it. You have to take your bath
on deck, and the towel blows overboard just as you
step out of the tub„ Harris and the boy do all the
interesting work — the lugging and the reefing, the
letting her go and the heeling her over, and aU that

14

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

sort of thing, — leaving George and myself to do the
peeling of the potatoes and the washing up.

“ Very well, then,” said Harris, ” let 's take a
proper yacht, with a skipper, and do the thing in
style.”

That also I objected to. I know that skipper ;
his notion of yachting is to lie in what he calls the
“ offing,” where he can be well in touch with his
wife and family, to say nothing of his favourite
public-house.

Years ago, when I was young and in xperienced,
I hired a yacht myself. Three things had combined
to lead me into this foolishness : I had had a stroke
of unexpected luck ; Ethelbertha had expressed a
yearning for sea air ; and the very next morning, in
taking up casuallyat the club a copy of the Sportsman,
I had come across the following advertisement : —

'"PO YACHTSMEN. — Unique Opportunity. — “ Rogue/* 28 -ton
1 Yawl, — Owner, called away suddenly on business, is willing
to let this superbly-fitted “ greyhound of the sea " for any period
short or long. Two cabins and saloon ; pianette, by Woffenkoff ;
new copper. Terras, 10 guineas a week. — Apply Pertwee and Co.,
3A Bucklersbury.

It had seemed to me like the answer to a prayer.
“ The new copper ” did not interest me ; what little
washing we might want could wait, I thought. But
the " pianette by WoffenkofiE ” sounded alluring. I
pictured Ethelbertha playing in the evening — some-
thing with a chorus, in which, perhaps, the crew,
with a little training, might join — while our moving
home bounded, “ greyhound-like,” over the silvery
billows.

I took a cab and drove direct to 3A Bucklevsbury.
Mr. Pertwee was an unpretentious-looking gentle-
man, who had an unostentatious qffice on the third

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEI. 15

•

floor. He showed me a picture in water-colours of
the Rogue flying before the wind. The deck was at
an angle of 95 to the ocean. In the picture no
human beings were represented on the deck ; I
suppose they had slipped off. Indeed, I do not sec
how anyone could have kept on, unless nailed. I
pointed out this disadvantage to the agent, who,
however, explained to me that the picture repre-
sented the Rogue doubling something or other on
the well-known occasion of her winning the Medway
Challenge Shield. Mr. Pertwee assumed that I knew
all about the event, so that I did not like to ask any
questions. Two specks near the frame of the picture,
which at first I had taken for moths, represented, it
appeared, the second and third winners in this
celebrated race. A photograph of the 3'^acht at anchor
off Gravesend was less impressive, but suggested
more stability. All answers to my imiuiries being
satisfactory, I took the thing for a fortnight. Mr.
Pertwee said it was fortunate I wanted it only for a
fortnight — later on I came to agree with him, — the
time fitting in exactly with another hiring. Had
I required it for three weeks he would have been
compelled to refuse me.

The letting being thus arranged, Mr. Pertwee
asked me if I had a skipper in my eye. That I
had not was also fortunate — things seemed to be
turning out luckily for me all round, — because Mr.
Pertwee felt sure I could not do better than keep
on Mr. Goyles, at present in charge — an excellent
skipper, so Mr. Pertwee assured me, a man who
knew the sea as a man knows his owm wife, and
who had never lost a life.

5t was still earlj in the day, and the j^acht was
lying off Harwich. I caught the ten forty-five from

l6 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

«

Liverpool Street, and by one o’clock was talking to
Mr. Goyles on deck. He was a stout man, and had
a fatherly way with him. I told him my idea, which
was to take the outlying Dutch islands and then
creep up to Norway. He said, " Aye, aye, sir,” and
appeared quite enthusiastic about the trip ; said he
should enjoy it himself. We came to the question
of victualling, and he grew more enthusiastic. The
amount of food suggested by Mr. Goyles, I confess,
surprised me. Had we been living in the days ol
Drake and the Spanish Main, I should have feared
he was arranging for something illegal. However,
he laughed in his fatherly way, and assured me we
were not overdoing it. Anything left the crew would
divide and take home with them — it seemed this
was the custom. It appeared to me that I was
providing for this crew for the winter, but I did
not like to appear stingy, and said no more. The
amount of drink required also surprised me. I
arranged for what I thought we should need for
ourselves, and then Mr. Goyles spoke up for the
crew. I must say that for him, he did think of his
men.

" We don’t want anything in the nature of an
orgie, Mr. Goyles,” I suggested.

” Orgie ! ” replied Mr. Goyles ; ” why they ’ll take
that little drop in their tea.”

He explained to me that his motto was. Get good
men and treat them well. •

” They work better for you,” said Mr. Goyles ;
” and they come again.”

Personally, I didn’t feel I wanted them to come
again I was beginning to take a dislike to them
before I had seen them ; I regarded them as a
greedy and guzzling crew. But Mr. Goyles was so

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 1 7

cheerfully emphatic, and I was so inexperienced,
that again I let him have his way. He also promised
that even in this department he would see to it
personally that nothing was wasted.

I also left him to engage the crew. He said he
could do the thing, and would, for me, with the help
of two men and a boy. If he was alluding to the
clearing up of the victuals and drink, I think he was
making an under-estimate ; but possibly he may
have been speaking of the sailing of the yacht.

I called at my tailors on the way home and
ordered a yachting suit, with a white hat, which
they promised to bustle up and have ready in time ;
and then I went home and told Ethelbertha all I
had done. Her delight was clouded by only one
reflection — would the dressmaker be able to finish a
yachting costume for her in time ? That is so like
a woman.

Our honeymoon, which had taken place not very
long before, had been somewhat curtailed, so we
decided we would invite nobody, but have the yacht
to ourselves. And thankful I am to Heaven that we
did so decide. On Monday we put on all our clothes
and started. I forget what Ethelbertha wore, but,
whatever it may have been, it looked very fetching.
My owm costume was a dark blue, trimmed with a
narrow white braid, which, I think, was rather
effective.

Mr. Goylcs nwt ns on deck, and told us that lunch
was ready. I must admit Goyles had secured the
services of a very fair cook. The capabilities of the
other members of the crew I had no opportunity of
judging. Speaking of them in a state of rest,
however, I can say of them they appeared to be a
cheerful crew.

l8 THREE AfEN ON THE BUM.MKL

My idea had been that so soon as the men had
finished their dinner we would weigh anchor, while
I, smoking a cigar, with Ethelbertha by my side,
would lean over the gunwale and watch the white
cliffs of the Fatherland sink imperceptibly into the
horizon. Ethelbertha and I carried out our part
of the programme, and waited, with the deck to
ourselves.

" They seem to be taking their time,” said
Ethelbertha.

" If, in the course of fouileen days,” I said,
" they eat half of what is on this j'^aclit, they will
want a fairly long time for every meal. We had
better not hurry them, or they won’t get through
a quarter of it.”

“ They must have gone to sleep,” said Ethelbertha,
later on. ” It will be tea-time soon.”

They were certainly very quiet. I went for'ard,
and hailed Captain Goyles down the ladder. I
hailed him three times ; then he came up slowly.
He appeared to be a heavier and older man than
when I had seen him last. He had a cold cigar in
his mouth.

“ When you are ready. Captain Gojdes,” I said,
“ we ’ll start.”

Captain Goyles removed the cigar from his mouth.

“ Not to-day we won’t, sir,” he replied, " with
your permission.”

“ Why, what 's the matter with to-day ? ” I said.
I know sailors are a superstitious folk ; I thought
maybe a Monday might be considered unlucky.

" The day 's all right,” answered Captain Goyles,
" it 's the wind I 'm a-thinking of. It don’t look
much like changing.”

“ But do we want it to change ? ” 1 asked. “ It

THREE MEN ON THE BUxMMEL ig

seems to me to be just where it should be, dead
behind us.’'

“ Aye, aye,” said Captain Goyles, " dead ’s the
right word to use, for dead we 'd all be, bar Provi-
dence, if we was to put out in this. You see, sir,”
he explained, in answer to my look of surprise,
" this is what we call a ‘ land wind,’ that is, it ’s
a-blowing, as one might say, direct off the land.”

When I came to think of it the man was right ;
the wind was blowing off the land.

“ It may change in the night,” said Captain
Goyles, more hopefully ; ” anyhow, it ’s not violent,
and she rides well.”

Captain Goyles resumed his cigar, and I returned
aft, and explained to Ethelbertha the reason for the
delay. Ethelbertha, who appeared to be less high
spirited tlian when we first boarded, wanted to
know why we couldn’t sail when the wind was off
the land.

” If it was not blowing off the land,” said
Ethelbertha, “ it would be blowing off the sea, and
that would send us back into the shore again. It
seems to me this is just the very wind we want.”

I said : ” That is your inexperience, love ; it
seems to be the very wind we want, but it is not.
It ’s what we call a land wind, and a land wind is
always ver>'^ dangerous.”

Ethelbertha wanted to know ivhy a land wind
was very dangerous.

Her argunu'ntativeness annoyed me somewhat ;
maybe I was feeling a bit cross ; the monotonous
rolling heave of a small yacht at anchor depresses
an ardent spirit.

” I can’t explain it to you,” I replied, which was
true, “ but to set sail in this wind would be the

20

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

height of foolhardiness, and I care for you too much,
dear, to expose you to unnecessary risks.”

I thought this rather a neat conclusion, but
Ethelbertha merely replied that she wished, under
the circumstances, we hadn't come on board till
Tuesday, and went below.

In the morning the wind veered round to the
north ; I was up early, and observed this to
Captain Goyles.

" Aye, aye, sir,” he remarked ; ” it 's unfortunate,
but it can’t be helped.”

” You don’t think it possible for us to start
to-day ? ” I hazaided.

He did not get angry with me, he only laughed.

” Well, sir,” said he, ” if you was a-wanting to go
to Ipswich, I should say as it couldn’t be better for
us, but our destination being, as you see, the Dutch
coast — why there you are ! ”

I broke the news to Ethelbertha, and we agreed
to spend the day on shore. Harwich is not a merry
town, towards evening you might call it dull. We
had some tea and watercress at Dovercourt, and
then returned to the quay to look for Captain Goyles
and the boat. We waited an hour for him. When
he came he was more cheerful than we were ; if he
had not told me himself that he never drank anything
but one glass of hot grog before turning in for the
night, I should have said he was drunk.

The next morning the wind was in the south,
which made Captain Goyles rather anxious, it
appearing that it was equally unsafe to move or to
stop where we were ; our only hope was it would
change before anything happened. By this time,
Ethelbertha had taken a dislike to the yacht ; she
said that, personally, she would rather be spending

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

21

a week in a bathing machine, seeing that a bathing
machine was at least steady.

We passed another day in Harwich, and that night
and the next, the wind still continuing in the south,
we slept at the " King's Head.” On Friday the wind
was blowing direct from the east. I met Captain
Goyles on the quay, and suggested that, under
these circumstances, we might start. He appeared
irritated at my persistence.

" If you knew a bit more, sir,” he said, " you 'd
see for yourself that it 's impossible. The wind 's
a-blowing direct off the sea.”

I said : " Captain Goyles, tell me what is this thing
I have hired ? Is it a yacht or a house-boat ? ”

He seemed surprised at my question.

He said : " It 's a yawl.”

” What I mean is,” I said, ” can it be moved
at all, or is it a fixture here ? If it is a fixture,”
I continued, ” tell me so frankly, then we will get
some ivy in boxes and train over the port-holes,
stick some flowers and an awning on deck, and
make the thing look pretty. If, on the other hand
it can be moved ”

" Moved ! ” interrupted Captain Goyles. ” Yol

get the right wind behind the Rogue ”

I said : ” What is the right wind ? ”

Captain Goyles looked puzzled.

" In the course of this week,” I went on, ” wc
have had wind from the north, from the south,
from the east, from the west — with variations. II
you can think of any other point of the compass
from which it can blow, tell me, and I will wait for
it. If not, and if that anchor has not grown into
the bottom of the ocean, we will have it up to-day
and see what happens.”

22

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

He grasped the fact that I was determined.

“ Very well, sir,” he said, " you 're master and
[ 'm man. I 've only got one child as is still
dependent on me, thank God, and no doubt your
executors will feel it their duty to do the right
thing by the old woman.”

His solemnity impressed me.

” Mr. Goyles,” I said, “ be honest with me. Is
there any Iioido, in any weather, of getting away
from this damned hole ? ”

Captain Goylcs’s kindly geniality returned to him.

“ You see, sir,” he said, “ this is a very peculiar
coast. We 'd be all right if we were once out, but
getting away from it in a cockle-shell like that —
well, to be frank, sir, it wants doing.”

I left Captain Goyles with the a.ssurance that he
would watch the weather as a mother would her
sleeping babe ; it was his o^vn simile, and it struck
me as leather touching. I saw him again at twelve
o’clock ; he was watching it from the window of
the “ Chain and Anchor.”

At five o’clock that evening a stroke of luck
occurred ; in the middle of the High Street I met
a couple of yachting friends, who had had to put
in by reason of a strained rudder. I told them my
story, and they appeared less surprised than amused.
Captain Goyles and the two men were still watching
the weather. I ran into the ” King’s Head,” and
prepared Ethelbertha. The four of'us crept quietly
down to the quay, where we found our boat. Only
the boy was on board ; my two fricirds took charge
of the yacht, and by six o’clock we wore scudding
merrily up the coast.

We put in that niglit at Aldborough, and the next
day worked up to Yarmouth, where, as my friends

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

23

had to leave, I decided to abandon the yacht. We
sold the stores by auction on Yarmouth sands early
in the morning. I made a loss, but had the satis-
faction of " doing ” Captain Goyles. I left the
Rogue in charge of a local mariner, who, for a couple
of sovereigns, undertook to see to its return to
Harwich ; and we came back to I.ondon by train.
There may be yachts other than the Rogue, and
skippers other than Mr. Goyles, but that experience
has prejudiced me against both.

George also thought a yacht would be a good deal
of responsibility, so we dismissed the idea.

" What about the river ? ” suggested Harris.
“ We have had some pleasant times on that.”

George pulled in silence at his cigar, and I cracked
another nut.

” The river is not what it used to be,” said I ;
” I don’t know what, but there ’s a something — a
dampness — about the river air that always starts
my lumbago.”

” It ’s the same with me,” said George. ” I don’t
know how it is, but I never can sleep now in the
neighbourhood of the river. I spent a week at Joe’s
place in the spring, and every night I woke up at
seven o’clock and never got a wink afterwards.”

" I merely suggested it,” observ'^ed Harris.
” Personally, I don’t think it good for me, either ;
it touches my gout.”

” What suits me best,” I said, “ is mountain air.
What say you to a walking tour in Scotland ? ”

" It ’s always wet in Scotland,” said George. “ I
was three weeks in Scotland the 3?ear before last,
and was never dry once all the time — not in that
sense.”

” It ’s fine enough in Switzerland,” said Harris.

24

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

They would
never stand
our going to
Switzerland by
ourselves,” I
objected. ‘‘You
know what hap-
pened last time.
1 1 must be some
place where no
delicately nur-
tured woman or
child could pos-
sibly live ; a
country of bad
hotels and com-
fortless travell-
ing ; where we
sliall have to
rough it, to work
hard, to starve
perhaps ”

‘‘Easy {’’inter-
rupted George,
” easy, there !
D(m ’t forget
I’m coming
with you.”

‘‘ I have it ! ”
exclaimed Har-
ris ; ‘‘a bicycle
tour ! ”

George looked
doubtful.

‘‘There ’salot

THliKE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

25

of uphill about a bicycle tour,” said he, “ and the
wind is against you.”

” So there is downhill, and the wind behind you,”
said Harris.

" I ’ve never noticed it,” said George.

” You won’t think of anything better than a
bicycle tour,” persisted Harris.

I was inclined to agree with him.

” And I '11 tell you where,” continued he ;
“ through the Black Forest.”

” Why, that ’s all iiphill,” said George.

"Not all,” retorted Harris ; “ say two-thirds.

And there ’s one thing you 've forgotten.”

He looked round cautiously, and sunk his voice to
a whisper.

" There are little railways going up those hills,
little cogwheel things that ”

The door opened, and Mrs. Harris appeared.
She said that Ethelbertha was putting on her
bonnet, and that Muriel, after waiting, had given
" The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party ” without us.

" Club, to-morrow, at four,” whispered Harris to
me, as he rose, and I passed it on to George as we
went upstairs

CHAPTER II

A. delicate business — What Ethelbeytha might have said
— What she did say — What Mrs. Harris said —
What we told George — We will start on W ednesday
— George suggests the possibility of improving our
minds — Harris and I are doubtful — Which man on
a tandetn does the most work ? — The opinion of the
man in front — Vieivs of the man behind — How
Harris lost his wife — The luggage question — The
wisdom of my late Uncle Podger — Beginning of
story about a man who had a bag.

I OPENED the ball with Ethelbertha that same
evening. I commenced by being purposely a little
irritable. My idea was that Ethelbertha would
remark upon this. I should admit it, and account
for it by over brain pressure. This w'ould naturally
lead to talk about my health in general, and the
evident necessity there was for my taking prompt
and vigorous measures. I thought that with a little
tact I might even manage so that the suggestion
should come from Ethelbertha herself. I imagined
her saying ; “No, dear, it is chan'ge you want ;
complete change. Now be persuaded by me, and go
away for a month. No, do not ask me to come with
you. I know you would rather that I did, but I wih
not. It is the society of other men you need. Try
and persuade George and Harris to go with you.
Believe me, a highly strung brain such as yours

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

27

demands occasional relaxation from the strain of
domestic surroundings. Forget for a little while
that children want music lessons, and boots, and
bicycles, with tincture of rhubarb three times a day ;
forget there are such things in life as cooks, and house
decorators, and next-door dogs, and butchers’ bills.
Go away to some green corner of the earth, where
all is new and strange to you, where your over-
wrought mind will gather peace and fresh ideas. Go
away for a space and give me time to miss you, and
to reflect upon your goodness and virtue, which,
continually present with me, I may, human-like, be
apt to forget, as one, through use, grows indifferent
to the blessing of the sun and the beauty of the
moon. Go away, and come back refreshed in mind
and body, a brighter, better man — if that be possible
— than when you went away.”

But even when we obtain our desires they never
come to us garbed as we would wish. To begin
with, Ethelbertha did not seem to remark that I
was irritable ; I had to draw her attention to it.
I said :

” You must forgive me, I ’m not feeling quite
myself to-night.”

She said ; “ Oh ! I have not noticed anything
different ; what 's the matter with you ? ”

" I can’t tell you what it is,” I said ; ” I ’ve felt
it coming on for weeks.”

” It ’s that Vliisky,” said Tiithelbertha. ” You
never touch it except when we go to the Harris’s.
You know you can’t stand it ; you have not a strong
head.”

” It isn’t the whisky,” I replied ; ” it ’s deeper
tlian that. I fancy it ’s more mental than bodily.”

” You ’ve been reading those criticisms again,”

28

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

said Ethclbt'rtha, more sympathetically ; " why

don’t you take my advice and put them on the fire ? ”
“ And it isn’t the criticisms,” I answered ;
" the}^ ’ve been quite flattering of late — one or two
of them.”

“ Well, what is it ? ” said Ethelbertha ; “ there
must be something to account for it.”

“ No, there isn’t,” I replied ; ” that ’s the

remarkable thing about it ; I can only describe it
as a strange feeling of unrest that seems to have
taken possession of me.”

Ethelbertha glanced acros.s at me with a somewhat
curious expression, 1 thought ; but as she said
nothing, I continued the argument myself.

■ " This aching monotony of life, these days of
peaceful, uneventful felicity, they appal one.”

" I should not grumble at them,” said Ethelbertha ;
" we might get some of the other sort, and like them
still less.”

“ I ’m not so sure of that,” I replied. ” In a life
of continuous joy, I can imagine even pain coming
as a welcome variation. I wonder sometimes
whether the saints in heaven do not occasionally
feel the continual .serenity a burden. To m3^self,
a life of endless bliss, uninterrupted by a single
contrasting note, would, I feel, grow maddening.
I su}>pose,” I continue d, “ I am a strange sort of
man ; I can hardly understand m^'self at times.
There are moments,” I added, when I hate
myself.”

Often a little speech like this, hinting at hidden
depths of indescribable emotion has touched
Ethelbertha, but to-night she appeared strangely
unsympathetic. With regard to heaven and its
possible effect upon me, she suggested ray not

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEE

29

worryirg myself about that, remarking it was always
foolish to go half-way to meet trouble that might
never come ; while as to my being a strange sort of
fellow, that, she supposed, I could not help, and if
other people were willing to put up with me, there
was an end of the matter. The monotony of life,
she added, was a common experience ; there she
could sympathise with me.

“ You don’t know how I long,” said Ethelbertha,
“ to get away occasionally, even from you ; but I
know it can never be, so I do not brood upon it.”

I had never heard Ethelbertha speak like this
before ; it astonished and grieved me beyond
measure.

” That ’s not a very kind remark to make,” I
said, ” not a wifely remark.”

" I know it isn’t,” she replied ; " that is why I
have newer said it before. You men never can
understand,” continued Ethelbertha, “ that, how-
ever fond a woman may be of a man, there arc-
times when he palls upon her. You clon’t know
how I long to be able sometimes to put on my
bonnet and go out, with nobody to ask me where
I am going, why I am going, how long I am going
to be, and when I shall be back. You don’t know
how I sometimes long to order a dinner that 1
should like and that the children would like, but
at the sight of which you would put on your hat
and be oft to the Club. You don’t know how much
I feel inclined sometimes to invite some woman
here that I like, and that I know you don’t ; to go
and see the people that I want to see, to go to bed
when / am tired, and to get up when I feel I want
to get up. Two people living together are bound
both to be continually sacrificing their own dcsixes

30 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

to the other one. It is sometimes a good thing to
slacken the strain a bit.”

On thinking over Ethelbertha’s words afterwards.
I have come to see their wisdom ; but at the time
I admit I was hurt and indignant.

" If your desire,” I said, ” is to get rid of
me ”

” Now, don’t be an old goose,” said Ethelbertha ;
” I only want to get rid of you for a little while,
just long enough to forget there are one or two
comers about you that are not perfect, just long
enough to let me remember what a dear fellow you
are in other respects, and to look forward to your
return, as I used to look forward to your coming
in the old days when I did not see you so often as
to become, perhaps, a little indifferent to you, as
one grows indifferent to the glory of the sun, just
because he is there every day.”

I did not like the tone that Ethelbertha took.
There seemed to be a frivolity about her, unsuited
to the theme into which we had drifted. That a
woman should contemplate cheerfully an absence
of three or four weeks from her husband appeared
to me to be not altogether nice, not what I call
womanly ; it was not like Ethelbertha at all. I
was worried, I felt I didn’t want to go this trip at
all. If it had not been for George and Harris, I
would have abandoned it. As it was, I could not
see how to change my mind with dignity.

” Very well, Ethelbertha,” I replied, “ it shall
be as you wish. If you desire a holiday from my
presence, you shall enjoy it ; but if it be not
impertinent curiosity on the part of a husband,
I should like to know what you propose doing in
my absence ? ”•

THREE MEIV ON THE BUMMEL

31

'* We will take that house at Folkestone,”
answered Ethelbertha, “ and I ’ll go down there
with Kate. And if you want to do Clara Harris
a good turn,” added Ethelbertha, " you '11 persuade
Harris to go with you, and then Clara can join us.
We three used to have some very jolly times together
before you men ever came along, and it would be
just delightful to renew them. Do you think,”
continued Ethelbertha, ” that you could persuade
Mr. Harris to go with you ? ”

I said I would try.

“ There 's a dear boy,” said Ethelbertha ; ” try
hard. You might get George to join you.”

I replied there was not much advantage in George's
coming, seeing he was a bachelor, and that therefore
nobody would be much benefited by his absence.
But a woman never understands satire. Ethelbertha
merely remarked it would look unkind leaving him
behind. I promised to put it to him.

I met Harris at the Club in the afternoon, and
asked him how he had got on.

He said, " Oh, that 's all right ; there 's no
difficulty about getting aw'ay.”

But there was that about his tone that suggested
incomplete satisfaction, so I pressed him for further
details.

" She was as sweet as milk about it,” he continued ;
” said it was an e.xcellent idea of George’s, and that
she thought it would do me good.”

” That seems all right,” I said ; ” what 's wrong
about that ? ”

" There ’s nothing wrong about that,” he answered,
" but that wasn’t aU. She w'ent on to talk of other
things.”

‘‘I understand,” I said.

32

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

" There 's that bathroom fad of hors,” he
continued.

” I 've heard of it,” I said ; ” she has startea
Ethelbertha on the same idea.”

" Well, I 've had to agree to that being put in
hand at once ; I couldn’t argue any more when she
was so nice about the other thing. That will cost
me a hundred pounds, at the very least.”

” As much as that ? ” I asked.

" Every penny of it,” said Harris ; " the estimate
alone is sixty.”

I was sorry to hear him say this.

” Then there ’s the kitchen stove,” continued
Harris ; ” eveiy thing that has gone wrong in the
house for the last two years has been the fault of
that kitchen stove.”

“ I know,” I said. ” We have been in seven
houses since we were married, and every kitchen
stove has been worse than the last. Our present
one is not only incompetent ; it is spiteful. It
knows when we arc giving a party, and goes out of
its way to do its worst.”

” We are going to have a new one,” said Harris,
but he did not say it proudly. “ Clara thought it
would be such a saving of expense, having the two
things done at the same time. I believe,” said Harris,
” if a woman wanted a diamond tiara, she would
explain that it was to save the expense of a bonnet.”

” How much do you reckon the stove is going
to cost you ? ” I asked. I felt interested in the
subject.

“ I don’t know,” answered Harris ; ” another
twenty, I suppose. Then we talked about the
piano. Could you ever notice,” said Harris, ” any
difference between one piano and another ? ”

THRKH MKN ON THE BU'MMET

33

*' Some of them seem to be a bit louder than
others,” I answered ; “ but one gets used to that.”

” Ours is all wrong about the treble.” said Harris.
“ By the way, what is the treble ? ”

“ It 's the shrill end of the thing,” I explained ;
” the part that sounds as if you ’d trod on its tail.
The brilliant selections always end up with a flourish
on it.”

" They want more of it,” said Harris ; " our old
one hasn't got enough of it. I '11 have to put it in
the nursery, and get a new one for the drawing-room.”

" Anything else ? ” I asked.

“ No,” said Harris ; ” she didn't seem able to
think of anything else.”

" You '11 find when you get home,” I said, " she
has thought of one other thing.”

" What 's that ? ” said Harris.

" A house at Folkestone for the season.”

” What should she want a house at Folkestone
for ? ” said Harris.

” To live in,” I suggested, " during the summer
months.”

“ She 's going to her people in Wales,” said
Harris, ” for the holidays, with the children ; we 've
had an invitation.”

“ Possibly,” I said, “ she '11 go to Wales before
she goes to Folkestone, or maybe she '11 take Wales
on her way home ; but she '11 want a house at
Folkestone for the season, notvv'ithstanding. I may
be mistaken — I hope for your sake that I am — but
I feel a presentiment that I 'm not.”

“ This trip,” said Harris, ‘‘ is going to be
expensive.”

" It was an idiotic suggestion,” I said, ” from
the beginning.”

34

THREK MEN ON THE BUMMEL

" It was foolish of us to listen to him/' said Harris ;
“ he '11 get us into real trouble one of these days.”

“ He always was a muddler,” I agreed.

” So headstrong,” added Harris.

We heard his voice at that moment in the hall,
asking for letters.

” Better not say anything to him,” I suggested ;
” it 's too late to go back now.”

“ There would be no advantage in doing so,”
replied Harris. " I should have to get that bath-
room and piano in any case now.”

He came in looking very cheerful.

“ Well,” he said, ” is it all .right ? Have you
managed it ? ”

There was that about his tone I did not altogether
like ; I noticed Harris resented it also.

” Managed what ? ” I said.

” Why, to get off,” said George.

I felt the time was come to explain things to
George.

” In married life,” I said, “ the man proposes,
the woman submits. It is her duty ; all religion
teaches it.”

George folded his hands and fixed his eyes on
the ceiling.

" We may chaff and joke a little about these
things,” I continued ; ” but when it comes to

practice, that is what always happens. We have
mentioned to our wives that We are going.
Naturally, they are grieved ; they would prefer to
come with us ; failing that, they would have us
remain with them. But we have explained to them
our wishe?^ on tlie subject, and — there 's an end of
the matter .

George said, ” Forgive me ; I did not understand.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMATEL

35

I am only a bachelor. People tell me this, that, and
the other, and I listen.”

I said, “ That is where you do wrong. When
you want information come to Harris or myself ;
we will tell you the truth about the.se questions.”

George thanked us, and we proceeded with the
business in hand.

” When shall we start ? ” said George.

" So far as I am concerned,” replied Harris, ” the
sooner the better.”

His idea, I fancy, was to get away before Mrs. H.
thought of other things. We fixed the following
Wednesday.

" What about route ? ” said Harris.

'* I have an idea,” said George. ” I take it you
fellows are naturally anxious to improve your
minds ? ”

I said, " We don't want to become monstrosities.
To a reasonable degree, yes, if it can be done without
much expense and with little personal trouble.”

” It can,” said George. " We know Holland and
the Rhine. Very well, my suggestion is that we
take the boat to Hamburg, see Berlin and Dresden,
and work our way to the Schwarzwald, through
Nuremberg and Stuttgart.”

" There are some pretty bits in Mesopotamia, so
I 've been told,” murmured Harris.

George said Mesopotamia was too much out of
our way, but ’that the Berlin-Dresden route was
quite practicable. For good or evil, he persuaded
us into it.

” The machines, I suppose,” said George, " as
before. Harris and I on the tandem, J. ”

“ I think not,” interrupted Harris, firmly. “ You
and J. on the tandem, I on the single.”

36 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMKL

f

" All the same to me,” agreed George. ” J. and
I on the tandem, Harris ”

” I do not mind taking my turn,” I interrapted,
“ but I am not going to carry George all the way ;
the burden should be divided.”

” Very well,” agreed Harris, " we ’ll divide it. But it
must be on the distinct understanding that he works.”

" That he what ? ” said George.

” That he works,” repeated Harris, firmly ; ” at
all events, uphill.”

” Great Scott ! ” said George ; “ don't you want
any exercise ? ”

There is always unpleasantness about this tandem.
It is the theory of the man in front that the man
behind does nothing ; it is equally the theory of the
man behind that he alone is the motive power, the
man in front merely doing the puffing. The mystery
will never be solved. It is annoying when Prudence
is whispering to you on the one side not to overdo
your strength and bring on heart disease ; while
Justice into the other ear is remarking, ” Why
should you do it all ? This isn’t a cab. He 's not
your passenger : ” to hear him grunt out :

” What 's the matter — lost your pedals ? ”

Harris, in his early married days, made much
trouble for himself on one occasion, owing to this
impossibility of knowing what the person behind
is doing. He was riding with his wife through
Holland. The roads were stony, arid the machine
jumped a good deal.

“ Sit tight,” said Harris, without turning his head.

What Mrs. Harris thought he said was, “ Jump
off.” Why she should have thought he said ” Jump
off,” when he said " Sit tight,” neither of them can
explain.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

37

Mrs. Harris puts it in this way, " If you had said,
‘ Sit tight,’ why should I have jumped off ? ”

Harris puts it, " If I had wanted you to jump off,
why should I have said ‘ Sit tight ! ’ ? ”

The bitterness is past, but they argue about the
matter to this day.

Be the explanation what it may, however, nothing
alters the fact that Mrs. Harris did jump off, while
Harris pedalled away hard, under the impression
she was still behind him. It appears that at first
she thought he was riding up the hill merely to
show off. They were both young in those days,
and he used to do that sort of thing. She expected
him to spring to earth on reaching the summit, and
lean in a careless and graceful attitude against the
machine, waiting for her. When, on the contrary,
she saw him pass the summit and proceed rapidly
down a long and steep incline, she was seized, first
with surprise, secondly with indignation, and lastly
with alarm. She ran to the top of the hill and
shouted, but he never turned his head. She watched
him disappear into a wood a mile and a half distant,
and then sat down and cried. They had had a slight
difference that morning, and she wondered if he had
taken it seriously and intended desertion. She had
no money ; she knew no Dutch. People passed,
and seemed sorry for her ; she tried to make them
understand what had happened. They gathered
that she had Tost something, but could not grasp
what. They took her to the nearest village, and
found a policeman for her. He concluded from her
pantomime that some man had stolen her bicycle.
They put the telegraph into operation, and discovered
in a village four miles off an unfortunate bov riding
a lady's machine of an obsolete pattern. They

38

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

brought him to her in a cart, but as she did not
appear to want either him or his bicycle they
let him go again, and resigned themselves to
bewilderment.

Meanwhile, Harris continued his ride with much
enjoyment. It seemed to him that he had suddenly
become a stronger, and in every way a more
capable cyclist. Said he to what he thought was
Mrs. Harris :

“ I haven’t felt this machine so light for months.
It 's this air, I think ; it ’s doing me good.”

Then he told her not to be afraid, and he would
show her how fast he could go. He bent down over
the handles, and put his heart into his work. The
bicycle bounded over the road like a thing of life ;
farmhouses and churches, dogs and chickens came
to him and passed. Old folks stood and gazed at
him, the children cheered him.

In this way he sped merrily onward for about five
miles. Then, as he explains it, the feeling began to
grow upon him that something was wrong. He was
not surprised at the silence ; the wind was blowing
strongly, and the machine was rattling a good deal.
It was a sense of void that came upon him. He
stretched out his hand behind him, and felt ; there
was nothing there but space. He jumped, or rather
fell off, and looked back up the road ; it stretched
white and straight through the dark wood, and not
a living soul could be seen upon it. ' He remounted,
and rode back up the hill. In ten minutes he
came to where the road broke into four ; there he
dismounted and tried to remember which fork he
had come down.

While he was deliberating a man passed, sitting
sidev;ays on a horse. Harris stopped him, and

THREE MEN ON THE BTJMMET

39

explained to him that he had lost his wife. The
man appeared to be neither surprised nor sorry
for him. While they were talking another farmer
came along, to whom the first man explained the
matter, not as an accident, but as a good story.
What appeared to surprise the second man most
was that Harris should be making a fuss about the
thing. He could get no sense out of either of
them, and cursing them he mounted his machine
again, and took the middle road on chance.
Half-way up, he came upon a party of two young
women with one young man between them. They
appeared to be making the most of him. He asked
them if they had seen his wife. They asked him
what she was like. He did not know enough Dutch
to describe her properly ; all he could tell them was
she was a very beautiful woman, of medium size.
Evidently this did not satisfy them, the description
was too general ; any man could say that, and by
this means perhaps get possession of a wife that
did not belong to him. They asked him how she was
dressed ; for the life of him he could not recollect.

I doubt if any man could tell how any woman
was dressed ten minutes alter he had left her. He
recollected a blue skirt, and then there was some-
thing that carried the dress on, as it were, up to the
neck. Possibly, this may have been a blouse ; he
retained a dim vision of a belt ; but what sort of a
blouse ? Was it green, or yellow, or blue ? Had it
a collar, or was it fastened with a bow ? Were
there feathers in her hat, or flowers ? Or was it
a hat at all ? He dared not say, for fear of n\aking
a mistake and being sent miles after the, wrong
party The two young women giggled, which in
his then state of mind irritated Harris The young

r

40

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

man, who appeared anxious to get rid o^ him,
suggested the police station at the nexl cown.
Harris made his way there. The police gave him a
piece of paper, and told him to write down a full
description of his wife, together with details of when
and where he had lost her. He did not know where
he had lost her ; all he could tell them was the name
of the village where he had lunched. He knew he
had her with him then, and that they had started
from there together.

The police looked suspicious ; they were doubtful
about three matters ; Firstly, was she really his
wife ? Secondly, had he really lost her ? Thirdly,
why had he lost her ? With the aid of a hotel-
keeper, however, who spoke a little English, he
overcame their scruples. They promised to act,
and in the evening they brought her to him in a
covered wagon, together with a bill for expenses.
The meeting was not a tender one. Mrs. Harris is
not a good actre.ss, and always has great difficulty in
disguising her feelings. On this occasion, she frankly
admits, she made no attempt to disguise them.

The wheel business settled, there arose the ever-
lasting luggage question.

“ The usual list, I suppose,” said George,
preparing to write.

That was wisdom I had taught them ; I had
learned it myself years ago from my Gnclc' Podger.

" Always, before beginning to pack,” my Uncle
would say, ” make a list.”

He was a methodical man.

" Take a piece of paper ” — he always began at the
beginning — ” put down on it everything you can
possibly require ; then go over it and see that it
contains nothing you can possibly do without.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

41

Imagine yourself in bed ; what have you got on ?
Very well, put it down — together with a change.
You get up ; what do you do ? Wash yourself.
What do you wash yourself with ? Soap ; put
down soap. Go on till you have finished. Then
take your clothes. Begin at your feet ; what do you
wear on your feet ? Boots, shoes, socks ; put them
down. Work up till you get to your head. What
else do you want besides clothes ? A little brandj' ;
put it down. A corkscrew ; put it down. Put dowai
everything, then you don’t forget anything.”

That is the plan he always pursued himself. The
list made, he would go over it carefully, as he always
advised, to see that he had forgotten nothing. Then
he would go over it again, and strike out everything
it was possible to dispense with.

Then he woiild lose the list.

Said George : " Just sufficient for a day or two
we will take with us on our bikes. The bulk of our
luggage we must send on from town to town.”

” We must be careful,” I said ; ” I knew a man
once ”

Harris looked at his watch.

“ We '11 hear about him on the boat,” said Harris ;
” I have got to meet Clara at Waterloo Station in
half an hour.”

“ It won’t take half an hour,” I said ; " it ’s a
true story, and ”

“ Don’t waste it,” said George : " I am told there
are rainy evenings in the Black Forest ; we may be
glad of it. What we have to do now is to finish
this list.”

Now I come to think of it, I never did get off
that story ; something always intermpted it. And
it really was true.

CHAPTER III

Harris's one fault — Harris and the Angel — A 'patent
bicycle lamp — The ideal saddle — The “ Overhaiiler ”
— His eagle eye — His method — His cheery con-
fidence — His simple and inexpensive tastes — His
appearance — How to get rid of him — George as
prophet — The gentle art of making oneself disagree-
able in a foreign tongue — George as a student of
human nature — He proposes an experiment — His
prudence — Harris’s support secured, upon con-
ditions.

On Monday afternoon Harris came round ; he had
a cycling paper in his hand.

I said : “ If you take my advice, you will leave
it alone.”

Harris said : " Leave what alone ? ”

I said ; ” That brand-new, patent, revolution in
cycling, record-breaking, Tomfoolishness, whatever
it may be, the advertisement of which you have
there in your hand.”

He said: “Well, I don’t know; there will be
some steep hills for us to negotiate ;* I guess we shall
want a good brake.”

I said : “ We shall want a brake, I agree ; what
we shall not want is a mechanical surprise that we
don’t understand, and that never acts when it is
wanted.”

" This thing,” he said, “ acts automatically/'

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

43

You needn’t tell me,” I said. “ I know exactly
what it will do, by instinct. Going uphill it will
jamb the wheel so effectively that we shall have to
carry the machine bodily. The air at the top of
the hill will do it good, and it will suddenly come
right again. Going downhill it will start reflecting
what a nuisance it has been. This will lead to
remorse, and finally to despair. It will say to itself :

‘ I 'm not fit to be a brake. I don’t help these
fellows ; I only hinder them. I 'm a curse, that ’s
what I am ; ’ and, without a word of warning, it
will ‘ chuck ’ the whole business. That is what that
brake will do. Leave it alone. You are a good
fellow,” I continued, ” but you have one fault.”

” What ? ” he asked, indignantly.

” You have too much faith,” I answered. ” If
you read an advertisement, you go away and believe
it. Every experiment that everj’^ fool has thought
of in connection with cycling you have tried. Your
guardian angel appears to be a capable 'and con-
scientious spirit, and hitherto she has seen you
through ; take my advice and don’t try her too far.
She must have had a busy time since you started
cycling. Don’t go on till you make her mad.”

He said : ” If every man talked like that there
would be no advancement made in any department
of life. If nobody ever tried a new thing the world
would come to a standstill. It is by ”

“ I know all that can be said on that side of the
argument,” I interrupted. “ I agree in trying new
experiments up to thirty-five ; ajler thirty-five I
consider a man is entitled to think of himself.
You and I have done our duty in this direction,
you especially You have been blown up by a
patent gas lamp ”

44

THREE MEN ON THE BlTMMEf.

He said : " I really think, you know, that was my
fault ; I think I must have screwed it up too tight.”

I said : “I am quite willing to believe that if there
was a wrong way of handling the thing that is the
way you handle it. You should take that tendency
of yours into consideration ; it bears upon the argu-
ment. Myself, I did not notice what you did ; I
only know we were riding peacefully and pleasantly
along the Whitby Road, discussing the Thirty Years’
War, when your lamp went off like a pistol-shot.
The start sent me into the ditch ; and your wife’s
face, when I told her there was nothing the matter
and that she was not to worry, because the two men
would carry you upstairs, and the doctor would be
round in a minute bringing the nurse with him, still
lingers in my memory.”

He said : “I wish you had thought to pick up the
lamp. T should like to have found out what was
the cause of its going off like that.”

I said : ” There was not time to pick up the lamp.
1 calculate it would have taken two hours to have
collected it. As to its ‘ going off,’ the mere fact of
its being advertised as the safest lamp ever invented
would of itself, to anyone but you, have suggested
accident. Then there was that electric lamp,” I
continued.

” Well, that really did give a fine light,” he
replied ; ” you said so yourself.”

I said : “It gave a brilliant light in the King’s
Road, Brighton, and frightened a horse. The
moment we got into the dark beyond Kemp Town
it went out, and you were summoned for riding
without a light You may remember that on sunny
aftentoons you used to ride about with that lamp
shining for all it was worth. When lighting-up

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

45

time came it was naturally tired, and wanted a
rest.”

" It was a bit irritating, that lamp,” he munnured ;
” I remember it.”

I said : “It irritated me : it must have been

worse for you. Then
there are saddles,” I
went on — I wished to
get this lesson home to
him. " Can you think
of any saddle ever
advertised that you
have not tried ? ”

He said : “It has'
been an idea of mine
that the right saddle is
to be found.”

I said : "You give up
that idea ; this is an
imperfect world of joy
and sorrow mingled.
There may be a better
land where bicycle
saddles are made out
of rainbow, stuffed w'ith
cloud ; in this world
the simplest thing is to
get used to something
hard. There \^as that
saddle you bought in
Birmingham ; it was
divided in the middle,
and looked like a pair
of kidneys.”

He said : “ You

46 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

mean that one constructed on anatomical
principles.”

“ Very likely,” 1 replied. " The box you bought
it in had a picture on the cover, representing a
sitting skeleton — or rather that part of a skeleton
which does sit.”

He said : “It was quite correct ; it showed you
the true position of the ”

I said : ” V\'e will not go into details ; the picture
always seemed to me indelicate.”

He said ; " Medically speaking, it was right.”

“ Possibly,” 1 said, ” for a man who rode in nothing
but his bones. I only know that I tried it myself,
and that to a man who wore flesh it was agony.
Every time you went over a stone or a rut it nipped
you : it was like riding on an irritable lobster. You
rode that for a month.”

” I thought it only right to give it a fair trial,”
he answered.

I said : ” You gave your family a fair trial also ; if
you will allow me the use of slang. Y our wife told me
that never in the whole course of your married life
had she known you so bad tempered, so un-Christian
like, as you were that month. Then you remember
that other saddle, the one with the spring under it.”

He said : “You mean ‘ the Spiral.’ ”

I said : “ I mean the one that jerked you up and
down like a Jack-in-the-box ; sometimes you came
down again in the right place, and sometimes you
didn’t. I am not referring to these matters merely
to recall painful memories, but I want to impress
you with the folly of trying experiments at your
time of life.”

He said : “ I wish you wouldn’t harp so much on
my age, A man at thirty-four ”

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

47

" A man at what ? "

He said : " If you don't want the thing, don’t
have it. If your machine runs away with you down
a mountain, and you and George get flung through
a church roof, don't blame me.”

" I cannot promise for George,” I said ; “ a little
thing will sometimes irritate him, as you know. If
such an accident as you suggest happen, he may be
cross, but I will undertake to explain to him that it
was not your fault.”

” Is the thing all right ? ” he asked.

” The tandem,” I replied, “ is well.”

He said ; ” Have you overhauled it ? ”

I said ; “I have not, nor is anyone els<, going to
overhaul it. The thing is now in working order,
and it is going to remain in working order till we
start.”

I have had experience of this “ overhauling.”
There was a man at Folkestone ; I used to meet him
on the Lees. He proposed one evening we should
go for a long bicycle ride together on the following
day, and I agreed. I got up early, for me ; I made
an effort, and was pleased with myself. He came
half an hour late : I was waiting for him in the
garden. It wiis a lovely day. He said : —

” That 's a good-looking machine of yours. How
does it run ? ”

" Oh, like most of them ! ” I answered ; " easily
enough in the morning; goes a little stiffly after
lunch.”

He caught hold of it by the front wheel and the
fork, and shook it violently.

I said : ” Don’t do that ; you '11 hurt it.”

I did not see why he should shake it ; it had
not done anything to him. Besides, if it, wanted

48

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

shaking. I was the proper person to shake it. I felt
much as I should had he started whacking my dog.

He said ; “ This front wheel wobbles.”

I said ; " It doesn’t if you don’t wobble it.” It
didn’t wobble, as a matter of fact — nothing worth
calling a wobble.

He said ; ” This is dangerous ; have you got a
screw-hammer ? ”

I ought to have been firm, but I thought that
perhaps he really did know something about the
business. I went to the tool shed to see what I
could find. When I came back he was sitting on
the ground with the front wheel between his legs.
He was playing with it, twiddling it round between
his lingers ; the remnant of the machine was lying
on the gravel path beside him.

He said : ” Something has happened to this front
wheel of yours.”

“ It looks like it, doesn’t it ? ” I answered. But
he was the sort of man that never understands
satire.

He said : ‘‘It looks to me as if the bearings were
all wrong.”

I said : “ Don’t you trouble about it any more ;
you will make yourself tired. Let us put it back
and get off.”

He said ; ‘‘ We may as well see what is the matter
with it, now it is out.” He talked as though it had
dropped out by accident. ■

Before I could stop him he had unscrewed some-
thing somewhere, and out rolled all over the path
some dozen or so little balls.

‘‘ Catch ’em ! ” he shouted ; ” catch ’em ! We
mustn’t lose any of them.” He was quite excited
about .them.

50

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

We grovelled round for half an hour, and found
sixteen. He said he hoped we had got them all,
because, if not, it would make a serious difference to
the machine. He said there was nothing you should
be more careful about in taking a bicycle to pieces
than seeing you did not lose any of the balls. He
explained that you ought to count them as you took
them out, and see that exactly the same number
went back in each place. I promised, if ever I
took a bicycle to pieces I would remember his
advice.

I put the balls for safety in my hat, and I put my
hat upon the doorstep. It was not a sensible thing
to do, I admit. As a matter of fact, it was a silly
thing to do. I am not as a rule addle-headed ; his
influence must have affected me.

He then said that while he was about it he would
see to the chain for me, and at once began taking
off the gear-case. I did try to persuade him from
that. I told him what an experienced friend of
mine once said to me solemnly : —

“ If anything goes wrong with your gear-case, sell
the machine and biiy a new one ; it comes cheaper."

He said : “ People talk like that who understand
nothing about machines. Nothing is easier than
taking off a gear-case.”

I had to confess he was right. In less than five
minutes he had the gear-case in two pieces, lying on
the path, and was grovelling for screws. He said
it was always a mystery to him the way screws
disappeared.

We were still looking lor the screws when
Ethelbertha came out. She seemed surprised to
find us there ; she said she thought we had started
hours ago.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

51

He said : " We shan’t be long now. I ’m just
helping your husband to overhaul this machine of
his. It 's a good machine ; but they all want going
over occasionally.”

Ethelbertha said ; ” If you want to wash your-
selves when you have done you might go into the
back kitchen, if you don’t n.ind ; the girls have just
finished the bedrooms.”

She told me that if she met Kate they would
probably go for a sail ; but that in any case she
would be back to lunch. I would have given a
sovereign to be going with her. I was getting
heartily sick of standing about watching this fool
breaking up my bicycle.

Common sense continued to whisper to me :
” Stop him, before he does any more mischief. You
have a right to protect your own property from the
ravages of a lunatic. Take him by the scruff of the
neck, and kick him out of the gate ! ”

But I am weak when it comes to hurting other
people’s feelings, and I let him muddle on.

He gave up looking for the rest of the screws.
He said screws had a knack of turning up when you
least expected them ; and that now he would see to
the chain. He tightened it till it would not move ;
next he loosened it until it was twice as loose as
it was before. Then he said we had better think
about getting the front wheel back into its place
again.

I held the fork open, and he worried with the
wheel. At the end of ten minutes I suggested he
should hold the forks, and that I should handle the
wheel ; and we changed places. At the end of his
first minute he dropped the machine, and took a
short walk round the croquet lawn, with his hands

52 THnEE MEN ON THE BUMMEl

pressed together between his thighs. He explained
as he walked that the thing to be careful about was
to avoid getting your fingers pinched between the
forks and the spokes of the wheel. I replied I was
convinced, from my own experience, that there was
much truth in what he said. He wrapped himself
up in a couple of dusters, and we commenced again.
At length we did get the thing into position ; and the
moment it was in position he burst out laughing.

I said : “ What ’s the joke ? ”

He said : " Well, I am an ass ! "

It was the first thing he had said that made me
respect him. I asked him what had led him to the
discovery.

He said : " We Ve forgotten the balls ! ”

I looked for my hat ; it was lying topsy-turvy in
the middle of the path, and Ethelbertha’s favourite
hound was swallowing the balls as fast as he could
pick them up.

" He will kill himself,” said Ebbson — I have
never met him since that day, thank the Lord ;
but I think his name was Ebbson — ” they are solid
steel.”

I said : ” I am not troubling about the dog. He
has had a bootlace and a packet of needles already
this week. Nature ’s the best guide ; puppies seem
to require this kind of stimulant. What I am
thinking about is my bicycle.”

He was of a cheerful disposition. He said:
” Well, we must put back all we can find, an l
trust to Providence.”

We found eleven. We fixed six on one side and
five on the other, and half an hour later the wheel
was in its place again. It need hardly be added that
it really did wobble now ; a child might have noticed

THREE MEN ON THK BUMMEJ.

d3

it. Ebbson said it would do for the present. He
appeared to be getting a bit tired himself. If I had
let him, he would, I believe, at this point have
gone home. I was determined now, however, that
he should stop and finish ; I had abandoned all
thoughts of a ride. My pride in the machine he
had killed. My only interest lay now in seeing him
scratch and bump and pinch himself. I revived
his drooping spirits with a glass of beer and some
judicious jiraise. I said ;

“ Watching you do this is of real use to me. It
is not only your skill and dexterity that fascinates
me, it is your cheery confidence in yourself, your
inexplicable hopefulness, that does me good.”

Thus encouraged, he set to work to refix the
gear-case. He stood the bicycle against the house,
and worked from the off side. Then he stood it
n gainst a tree, and worked from the near side.
Then I held it for him, while he lay on the ground
with his head between the wheels, and worked at it
from below, and dropped oil upon himself. Then
he took it away from me, and doubled himself
across it like a pack-saddle, ti'l he lost his balance
and slid over on to his head. Three times he said ;

“ Thank Heaven, that ’s right at last ! ”

And twice he said :

” No, I ’m damned if it is after all ! ”

What he said the third time I try to forget.

Then he lost his temper and tried bullying fhe
thing. The bicycle, I was glad to see, showed
spirit ; and the subsequent proceedings degenerated
into little else than a rough-and-tumble fight between
him and the machine. One moment the bicr cle
would be on the gravel path, and he on top of it ;
the next, the position would be reversed — he on

54 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

the gravel path, the bicycle on him. Now he
would be standing flushed with victory, the bicycle
firmly fixed between his legs. But his triumph
would be short-lived. By a sudden, quick move-
ment it would free itself, and, turning upon him, hit
him sharply over the head with one of its handles.

At a quarter to one, dirty and dishevelled, cut and
bleeding, he said : " I think that will do ; ” and rose
and wiped his brow.

The bicycle looked as if it also had had enough
of it. Which had received most punishment it
would have been difficult to say. I took him into
the back kitchen, where, so far as was possible
without soda and proper tools, he cleaned himself,
and sent him home.

The bicycle I put into a cab and took round to
the nearest repairing shop. The foreman of the
works came up and looked at it.

" What do you want me to do with that ? " said he.

" I want you.” I said, ” so far as is possible, to
restore it.”

“ It ’s a bit far gone,” said he ; " but I ’ll do my
best.”

He did his best, which came to two pounds ten.
But it was never the same machine again ; and at
the end of the season I left it in an agent’s hands to
sell. I wished to deceive nobody ; I instructed the
man to advertise it as a last year’s machine. The
agent advised me not to mention any date. He
said :

" In this business it isn’t a question of what is
true and what isn’t ; it ’s a question of what you can
get people to believe. Now, between you and me,
it don’t look like a last year’s machine ; so far as
looks are concerned, it might be a ten-year old.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 55

We ’ll say nothing about date ; we '11 just get what
we can.”

I left the matter to him, and he got me five pounds,
which he said was more than he had expected.

There arc two ways you can get exercise out of a
bicycle : you can " overhaul ” it, or you can ride it.
On the whole, I am not sure that a man who takes
his pleasure overhauling docs not have the best of
the bargain. He is independent of the weather and
the wind ; the state of the roads troubles him not.
Give him a screw-1 lammer, a bundle of rags, an oil-
can, and something to sit dowm upon, and he is
happy for the day. He has to put up with certain
disadvantages, of course ; there is no joy without
alloy. He himself always looks like a tinker, and
his machine always suggests the idea that, having
stolen it, he has tried to disguise it ; but as he
rarely gets beyond the first milestone with it, this,
perhaps, does not much matter. The mistake some
pcojile make is in thinking they can get both forms
of sport out of the same machine. This is impossible ;
no machine will stand the double strain. You
must make up your mind whether you are going to
be an “ overhaulcr ” or a rider. Personally, I prefer
to ride, therefore I take care to have near me
nothing that can tempt me to overhaul. When
anything happens to my machine I wheel it to the
nearest repairing shop. If I am too far from the
town or village* to walk, I sit by the roadside and
wait till a cart comes along. My chief danger, I
always find, is from the wandering overhaulcr. The
sight of a broken-down machine is to the overhaulcr
as a wayside corpse to a crow ; he swoops down
upon it with a friendly yell of triumph. At first I
used to try politeness. 1 would say :

56

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

" It is nothing ; don’t you trouble. You ride on,
and enjoy yourself, I beg it of you as a favour ;
please go away.”

Experience has taught me, however, that coui ’’esy
is of no use in such an extremity. Now !
say:

” You go aw'ay and leave the thing alone, or I
will knock your silly head off.”

And if you look determined, and have a good
stout cudgel in your hand, you can generally drive
him off.

George came in later in the day. He said :

” Well, do you think everything will be ready ? ”

I said : ” Everything will be ready by Wednesday,
except, perhaps, you and Harris.”

He said : ” Is the tandem all right ? ”

” The tandem,” I said, ” is well.”

He said : ” You don’t think it wants overhauling ?”

I replied : “ Age and experience have taught me
that there are few matters concerning which a man
does well to be positive. Consequently, there remain
to me now but a limited number of questions upon
which I feel any degree of certainty. Among such
still-unshaken beliefs, however, is the conviction that
that tandem does not want overhauling. I also feel
a presentiment that, provided my life is spared, no
human being between now and Wednesday morning
is going to overhaul it.”

George said : “ I should not shbw temper over
the matter, if I were you. There will come a day,
perhaps not fai distant, when that bicycle, with a
couple of mountains between it and the nearest
repairing shop, will, in spite of your chronic desire
for rest, have to be overhauled. Then you will
clamour for people to tell you where you put the

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

57

oil-can, and what you have done with the screw-
hammer, Then, while you exert yourself holding the
thing steady against a tree, you will suggest that
somebody else should clean the chain and pump the
back wheel.”

I felt there was justice in George’s rebuke — also
a certain amount of prophetic wisdom. I said :

” Forgive me if I seemed unresponsive. The truth
is, Harris was round here this morning ”

George said : ” Say no more ; I understand.

Besides, what I came to talk to you about was
another matter. Look at that.”

He handed me a small book bound in red cloth.
It was a guide to English conversation for the use
of German travellers. It commenced “ On a Steam-
boat,” and terminated ” At the Doctor’s ” ; its longest
chapter being devoted to conversation in a railway
carriage, among, apparently, a compartment load of
quarrelsome and ill-mannered lunatics ; ” Can you
not get further away from me, sir ? ” — ” It is im-
possible, madam ; my neighbour, here, is veiy' stout ”
— ” Shall we not endeavour to arrange our legs ? ” —
“ Please have the goodness to keep your elbows
down ” — " Pray do not inconvenience yourself,
madam, if my shoulder is of any accommodation to
you,” whether intended to be said sarcastically or
not, there was nothing to indicate — ” I really must
recpiest you to move a little, madam, I can hardly
breathe,” the author’s idea being, presumably, that
by this time the whole party was mixed up together
on the floor The chapter concluded with the phrase,
” Here we are at our destination, God be thanked !
[GoU sei dank !) ” a pious exclamation, which imder
the circumstances must have taken the form of a
chorn.s.

58

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

At the end of the book was an appendix, giving
the German traveller hints concerning the preserva-
tion of his health and comfort during his sojourn
in English towns, chief among such hints being
advice to him to always travel with a supply of
disinfectant powder, to always lock his bedroom
door at night, and to always carefully count his small
change.

" It is not a brilliant publication,” I remarked,
handing the book back to George ; “ it is not a book
that personally I would reeommend to any German
about to visit England ; I think it would get him
dishked. But I have read books publislied in London
for the use of English travellers abroad every whit
as foolish. Some educated idiot, misunderstanding
seven languages, would appear to go about writing
these books for the misinformation and false guidance
of modern Europe.”

" You cannot deny,” said George, " that these
books arc in large request. They are bought by the
thousand, I know. In every town in Europe there
must be people going about talking this sort of
thing.”

“ Maybe,” I eplied ; " but fortunately nobody
understands them. I have noticed, myself, men
standing on railway platforms and at street corners
reading aloud from such books. Nobody knows
what language they are speaking ; nobody has the
slightest knowledge of what they arc saying, lliis
is, perhaps, as well ; were they understood they
would probably be assaulted.”

George said : ” Maybe you are right ; my idea is
to see what would happen if they were understood.
My proposal is to get to London early on Wednesday
morning, and spend an hour or two going about and

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

59

shopping with the aid of this book. There are one
or two httle things I want — a hat and a pair of
bedroom slippers, among other articles. Our boat
does not leave Tilbury till twelve, and that just gives
us time. I want to try this sort of talk where I can
properly judge of its effect. I want to see how the
foreigner feels when he is talked to in this way.”

It struck me as a sporting idea. In my enthusiasm
I offered to accompany liim, and wait outside the
shop. I said I thought that Harris would like to be
in it, too — or rather outside.

George said that was not quite his scheme. His
proposal was that Harris and I should accompany
him into the shop. With Harris, who looks for-
midable, to support him, and myself at the door to
call the police if necessary, he said he was willing
to adventure the thing.

We walked round to Harris’s, and put the pro-
posal before him. He examined the book, especially
the chapters dealing with the purchase of shoes and
hats. He said :

“If George talks to any bootmaker or any hatter
the things that are put down here, it is not support
he will want ; it is carrying to the hospital that he
will need.”

That made George angry.

” You talk,” said George, ” as though I were a
foolhardy boy without any sense. 1 shall select
from the more polite and less irritating speeches ;
the grosser insults I shall avoid.”

This being clearly understood, Harris gave in his
adhesion ; and our start was fixed for early
Wednesday morning.

CHAPTER IV

Why Harris considers alarm clocks unnecessary in a
family — Social instincts of the young — A child's
thoughts about the morning — The sleepless watch-
man — The mystery of him — His over anxiety —
Night thoughts — The sort of work one does before
breakfast — The good sheep and the had — Disad-
vantages of being virtuous — Harris's new stove
begins badly — The daily out-going of my Uncle
Podger — The elderly city man considered as a racer
— We arrive in London — We talk the language of
the traveller.

George came down on Tuesday evening, and slept
at Harris’s place. We thought this a better arrange-
ment than his own suggestion, which was that we
should call for him on our way and " pick him up.”
Picking George up in the morning means picking
him out of bed to begin with, and shaking him
awake — in itself an exhausting effort with w'hich to
commence the day ; helping him find his things
and finish his pacldng ; and then waiting for him
while he eats his breakfast, a tedious entertainment
from the spectator’s point of view, full of wearisome
repetition.

I knew that if he slept at ” Beggarbush ” he
would be up in time ; I have slept there myself,
and I know what happens. About the middle of the
night, as you judge, though in reality it may be

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL fil

somewhat later, you are startled out of your first
sleep by what sounds like a rush of cavalry along
the passage, just outside your door. Your half-
awakened intelligence fluctuates between burglars,
the Day of Judgment, and a gas explosion. You
sit up in bed and listen intently. You are not k<}pt
waiting long ; the next moment a door is violently
slammed, and somebody, or something, is evidently
coming downstairs on a tea-tray.

" I told you so,” says a voice outside, and imme-
diately some hard substance, a head one would say
from the ring of it, rebounds against the panel of
your door.

By this time you are charging madly round the
room for your clothes. Nothing is where you put
it overnight, the articles most essential have dis-
appeared entirely ; and meanwhile the murder, or
revolution, or whatever it is, continues unchecked.
You pause for a moment, with your head under the
wardrobe, where you think you can see your slippers,
to listen to a steady, monotonous thumping upon a
distant door. The victim, you presume, has taken
refuge there ; they mean to have him out and finish
him. Will you be in time ? The knocking ceases,
and a voice, sweetly reassuring in its gentle plaintive-
ness, asks meekly :

“ Pa, may I get up ? ”

You do not hear the other voice, but the responses
are :

” No, it was only the bath — no, she ain’t really
hurt, — only wet, you know. Yes, ma, I '11 tell ’em
what you say. No, it was a pure accident. Yes ;
good-night, papa.”

Then the same voice, exerting itself so as to be
heard in a distant part of the house, remarks :

62

THKKH MEN ON THE BUMMEL

“ You 've got to come upstairs again. Pa sa}^ it
isn’t time yet to get up.”

You return to bed, and lie listening to somebody
being dragged upstairs, evidently against their will.
By a thoughtful arrangement the spare rooms at
“ Beggarbush ” are exactly underneath the nurseries.
The same somebody, you conclude, still offering the
most creditable opposition, is being put back into
bed. You can follow the contest with much exacit-
tude, because every time the body is flimg down
upon the spring mattress, the bedstead, just above
your head, makes a sort of jump ; while every time
the body succeeds in struggling out again, you are
aware by the thud upon the floor. After a time the
struggle wanes, or maybe the bed collapses ; and
you drift back into sleep. But the next moment, or
what seems to be the next moment, you again open
your eyes under the consciousne s of a i)resence.
The door is being held ajar, and four solemn faces,
piled one on top of the other, are peering at you, as
though you were some natural curiosity kept in this
particular room. Seeing you awake, the top face,
walking calmly over the other three, comes in and
sits on the bed in a friendly attitude.

“ Oh ! ” it says, " we didn’t know you were awake.
I 've been awake some time.”

” So I gather,” you reply, shortly.

” Pa doesn’t like us to get up too early,” it
continues. ” He says everybody else in the house
is liable to be disturbed if we get up. So, of course,
we mustn’t.”

The tone is that of gentle resignation. It is
instinct with the spirit of virtuous pride, arising
from the consciousness of self-sacrifice.

” Don't you call this being up ? ” you suggest.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 63

“ Oh, no ; wc ’rc not really up, you know, because
we 're not properly drf“«sed.” The fact is self-
evident. “ Pa 's always very tired in the morning,”
the voice continues ; “of course, that 's because he
works hard all day. Are you ever tired in the
morning ? ”

At this point he turns and notices, for the first
time, that the three other children have also entered,
and are sitting in a semi-circle on the floor. From
their attitude it is clear they have mistaken the
whole thing for one of the slower forms of entertain-
ment, some comic lecture or conjuring exhibition,
and are waiting patic'iitly for you to get out of bed
and do something. It shocks him, the idea of their
being in the guest’s bedchamber. He peremptorily
orders them out. 'I'hey do not answer him, they do
not argue ; in dead silence, and with one accord
they fall upon him. All 5'ou can see from the bed is
a confused tangle of waving arms and legs, sug-
gestive of an intoxicated octopus ti'ying to find
bottom. Not a word is spoken ; that seems to be
the etiquette of the thing. If you are sleeping in
your pyjamas, you spring from the bed, and only
add to the confusion ; if you are wearing a less
showy garment, you stop where you are and shout
t:ommands, which are utterly unheeded. The sim-
plest plan is to leave it to the eldest boy. He does
get them out after a while, and closes the door upon
them. It re-opQiis immediately, and one, generally
Muriel, is shot back into the room. She enters as
from a catapult. She is handicapped by having
long hair, which can be used as a convenient handle.
Evidently aware of this natural disadvantage, she
clutches it herself tightly in one hand, and punches
with the other. He opens the door again, and

64

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

cleverly uses her as a battering-ram against the wall
of those without. You can hear the dull crash as
her head enters among them, and scatters them.
When the victory is complete, he comes back and
resumes his seat on the bed. There is no bitterness
about him ; he has forgotten the whole incident.

“ I like the morning,” he says, “ don’t you ? ”

" Some mornings,” you agree, " are all right ;
others are not so peaceful.”

He takes no notice of your exception ; a far-away
look steals over his somewhat etiiereal face.

" I should like to die in the morning,” he says ;
“ everything is so beautiful then.”

” Well,” you answer, “ perhaps you will, if your
father ever invites an irritable man to come and
sleep here, and doesn’t warn him beforehand.”

He descends from his contemplative mood, and
becomes himself again.

” It ’s jolly in the garden,” he suggests ; “ you
wouldn’t like to get up and have a game of cricket,
would you ? ”

It was not the idea with which you went to bed,
but now, as things have turned out, it seems as good
a plan as lying there hopelessly awake ; and you agree.

You learn, later in the day, that the explanation
of the proceeding is that you, unable to sleep, woke
up early in the morning, and thought you would like
a game of cricket. The children, taught to be ever
courteous to guests, felt it their duty to humour
you. Mrs. Harris remarks at breakfast that at least
you might have seen to it that the children were
properly dressed before you took thf^m out ; while
Harris points out to you, pathetically, how, by your
one morning’s example and encouragement, you
have undone his labour of months.

TFIREE MEN ON TffE BUMMEL

65

On this Wednesday morning, George, it seems,
clamoured to get up at a quarter-past five, and
persuaded them to let him teach them cycling tricks
round the cucumber frames on Harris’s new wheel.
Even Mrs. Harris, however, did not blame George
on this occasion ; she felt intuitively the idea could
not have been entirely his.

It is not that the Harris children have the
faintest notion of avoiding blame at the expense of
a friend and comrade. One and all they are honesty
itself in accepting responsibility for their own mis-
deeds. It simply is, that is how the thing presents
itself to their understanding. When you explain to
them that you had no original intention of getting
up at live o’clock in the morning to play cricket on
the croquet lawn, or to mimic the history of the
early Church by shooting with a cross-bow at dolls
tied to a tree ; that as a matter of fact, left to your
own initiative, you woukl have slept peacefully till
roused in Christian fashion with a cup of tea at eight,
they are firstly astonished, secondly apologetic,
and thirdly sincerely contrite. In the present
instance, waiving the purely academic question
whether the awakening of George at a little before
five was due to natural instinct on his part, or to
the accidental passing of a home-made boomerang
through his bedroom window, the dear children
frankly admitted that the blame for his uprising was
their own. As the eldest boy said :

" We ought to have remembered that Uncle
George had a long day before him, and we ought to
have dissuaded him from getting up. I blame
myself entirely.”

But an occasional change of habit does nobody
any harm ; and besides, as Harris and I agreed, it

66

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEI,

was good training for George. In the Black Forest
we should be up at five every morning ; that we had
determined on. Indeed, George himself had sug-
gested half-past four, but Harris and I had argued
that five would be early enough as an average ; that
would enable us to be on our machines by six, and
to break the back of tmr journey before the heat of
the day set in. Occasionally M'e might start a little
earlier, but not as a habit.

I myself was up that morning at five. This
was earlier than I had intended. I had said to
myself on going to sleep, “ Six o’clock, sharp ! ”

There are men I know who can wake themselves
at any time to the minute. They say to themselves
literally, as they lay their heads upon the pillow,
“ Four-thirty,” “ Four-forty-five,” or ” Five-fifteen,”
as the case may be ; and as the clock strikes they
open their eyes. It is very wonderful this ; the
more one dwells upon it, the greater the mystery
grows. Some Ego within us, acting quite indepen-
dently of our conscious self, must be capable of
counting the hours while we sleep. Unaided by
clock or sun, or any other medium known to our
five senses, it keeps watch through the darkness.
At the exact moment it whispers ” Time ! ” and we
awake. The work of an old riverside fellow I once
talked with called him to be out of bed each morning
half an hour before high tide. He told me that
never once had he overslept himself by a minute.
Latterly, he never even troubled to work out the
tide for himself. He would lie down tired, and
sleep a dreamless sleep, and each morning at a
different hour this ghostly watchman, true as the
tide itself, would sUently call him. Did the man’s
spirit haunt through the darkness the muddy rivet

TIIUKE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

67

staire ; or had it knowledge of the ways of Nature ?
Whatever tlu' process, the man himself was un-
conscious of it.

In my own case my inward watchman is, perhaps,
somewhat out of practice. He does his best ; but
he is over-anxious ; he worries himself, and loses
count. I say to him, maybe, " Five-thirty, please ; ”
and he wakes me with a start at half-past two. I
look at my watch. He suggests that, perhaps, I
forg<jt to wind it up. I put it to my ear ; it is still
going. He tliinks, maybe, something has happened
to it ; he is confident himself it is half-past five, if
not a little later. To satisfy him, I put on a pair of
slippers and go downstairs to inspect the dining-
room clock. Wliat happens to a man when he
wand('rs about the house in the middle of the night,
clad in a dressing-gown and a pair of slippers,
there is no need to recount ; most men know by
experience. Everything — especially everything with
a sharp comer-— takes a cowardly delight in hitting
him. When you are wearing a pair of stout boots,
things get out of your way ; when you venture
among furniture in woolwork slippers and no socks,
it comes at you and kicks you. I return to bed
bad tempered, and refusing to listen to his further
absurd suggestion that all the clocks in the house
have entered into a conspiracy against me, take
half an hour to get to sleep again. From four to
five he wakes me every ten minutes. I wish I had
never said a word to him about the thing. At five
o’clock he goe.s to sleep himself, worn out, and
leaves it to the girl, who does it half an hour later
than usual.

On this particular Wednesday he worried me to
such an extent, that I got up at five simply to be

68 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEE

«

rid oi him, I did not know what to do with myself.
Our train did not leave till eight ; all our luggage had
been packed and sent on the night before, together
with the bicycles, to Fenchurch Street Station. I
went into my study ; I thought I would put in an
hour’s writing. The early morning, before one hat.
breakfasted, is not, I take it, a good season for
literary effort. I wrote three paragraphs of a story,
and then read them over to myself. Some unkind
things have been said about my work ; but nothing
has yet been written which would have done justice
to those three paragraphs. I threw them into the
waste-paper basket, and sal trying to remember
what, if any, charitable institutions provided pen-
sions for decayed authors.

To escape from this train of reflection, I put
a golf-ball in my pocket, and selecting a driver,
strolled out into the paddock. A couple of sheep
were browsing there, and they followed and took a
keen interest in my practice. The one was a kindly,
sympathetic old party. I do not think she under-
stood the game ; I think it was my doing this
innocent thing so early in the morning that appealed
to her. At every stroke I made she bleated :

" Go — o -o — d, go — o — o — d ind — e — e — d ! ”

She seemed as pleased as if she had done it
herself.

As for the other one, she was a cantankerous,
disagreeable old thing, as discouraging to me as
her friend was helpful.

" Ba — a — ad, da — a — a — m ba — a — a — d ! ” was
her comment on almost every stroke. As a matter
of fact, some were really excellent strokes ; but she
did it just to be contradictory, and for the sake of
irritating. I could see that.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 69

By a most regrettable accident, one of my swiftest
balls struck the good sheep on the nose And at
that the bad sheep laughed — laxrghed distinctly and
undoubtedly, a husky, vulgar laugh ; and, while her
friend stood glued to the ground, too astonished to
move, she changed her note for the first time and
bleated :

“ Go — o — o — d, ve— e -ry go -0 -0— d ! Be ~e— e
— est sho — o — o — ot he — e — e ’s ma — a — a — de ! ”

I would have given half-a-crown if it had been
she I had hit instead of the other one. It is ever
the good and amiable who suffer in this world.

I had wasted more time than I had intended
in the paddock, and when Ethelbertha came to
tell me it was half-past seven, and the breakfast
was on the table, I remembered that I had not
shaved. It vexes Ethelbertha my shaving quickly.
She fears that to outsiders it may suggest a poor-
spirited attempt at suicide, and that in consequence
it may get about the neighbourhood that we are
not happy together. As a further argument, she
has also hinted that my appearance is not of the
kind that can be trifled with.

On the whole, I was just as glad not to be able
to take a long farewell of Ethelbertha ; I did not
want to risk her breaking down. But I should
have liked more opportunity to say a lew farewell
words of advice to the children, especially as regards
my fishing rod., which they will persist in using for
cricket stumps ; and I hate having to run for a
train Quarter of a mile from the station I over-
took George and Harris ; they were also running.
In their case — so Harris informed me, jerkily, while
we trotted side by side — it was the new kitchen
stove that was to blame. This w'as the first morning

70

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

«

they had tried it, and from some cause or other
it had blown up the kidneys and scalded the cook.
He said he hoped that by the time we returned
they would have got more used to it.

We caught the train by the skin of our teeth, as
the saying is, and reflecting upon the events of the
morning, as we sat gasping in the carriage, there
passed vividly before my mind the panorama of my
Uncle Podger, as on two hundred and fifty days in
the year he would start from Ealing Common by
the nine-thirteen train to Moorgate Street.

From my Uncle Podger’s house to the railway
station was eight minutes’ walk. What my uncle
always said was :

" Allow yourself a quarter of an hour, and take
it easily.”

What he always did was to start five minutes
before the time and run. I do not know why, but
this was the custom of the suburb. Many stout
City gentlemen lived at Ealing in those days — I
believe some live there still — and caught early trains
to Town. They all started late ; they all carried a
black bag and a newspaper in one hand, and an
umbrella in the other ; and for the last quarter of a
mile to tlie station, wet or fine, they all ran.

Folks with nothing else to do, nursemaids chiefly
and errand boys, with now and then a perambti-
lating costermonger added, wf)uld gather on the
common of a fine morning to watch .them pass, and
cheer the most deserving. It was not a showy
spectacle. They did not run well, they did not
even run fast ; but they were earnest, and they did
their best. The exhibition appealed less to one’s
sense of ait than to one’s natural admiration for
conscientious effort.

72

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

Occasionally a little harmless betting would take
place among the crowd.

" Two to one agin the old gent in the white
weskit ! ”

" Ten to one on old Blowpipes, bar he don’t roll
over hisself ’fore 'e gets there ! ”

" Heven money on the Purple Hemperor ! ” — a
nickname bestowed by a youth of entomological
tastes upon a certain retired military neighbour of
my uncle’s, — a gentleman of imposing appearance
when stationary, but apt to colour highly under
exercise.

My uncle and the others would write to the
Ealing Press complaining bitterly concerning the
supineness of the local police ; and the editor
would add spirited leaders upon the Decay of
Courtesy among the Lower Orders, especially
throughout the Western Suburbs. But no good
ever resulted.

It was not that my uncle did not rise early
enough ; it was that troubles came to him at the
last moment. The first thing he would do after
breakfast would be to lose his newspaper. We
always knew when Uncle Podger had lost anything,
by the expression of astonished indignation with
which, on such occasions, he would regard the
world in general. It never occurred to my Uncle
Podger to say to himself :

“ I am a careless old man. I lose everything ;
I never know where I have put anything. I am
quite incapable of finding it again for myself. In
this respect I must be a perfect nuisance to every-
body about me. I must set to work and reform
myself.”

On the contrary, by some peculiar course ot

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

73

reasoning, he had convinced himself that whenever
he lost a thing it was everybody else’s fault in the
house but his own.

“ I had it in my hand here not a minute ago ! ”
he would exclaim.

From his tone you would have thought he was
living surrounded by conjurers, who spirited away
things from him merely to irritate him.

" Could you have left it in the garden ? ” my aunt
would suggest.

“ What should I want to leave it in the garden
for ? I don’t want a paper in the garden ; I want
the paper in the train with me.”

” You haven’t put it in your pocket ? ”

” God bless the woman ! Do you think I should
be standing here at five minutes to nine looking
for it if I had it in my pocket all the while ? Do
you think I ’m a fool ? ”

Here somebody would explain, ” What ’s this ? ”
and hand him from somewhere a paper neatly
folded.

” I do wish people would leave my things alone,”
he would growl, snatching at it savagely.

He would open his bag to put it in, and then
glancing at it, he w'ould pause, speechless with sense
of injury.

" W’hat ’s the matter ? ” aunt would ask.

” The day before yesterday’s ! ” he would answer,
too hurt even to shout, throwing the paper down
upon the table.

If only sometimes it had been yesterday’s it would
have been a change. But it was always the day
before yestei'day’s ; except on Tuesday ; then it
would be Saturday’s.

We would find it for him eventually ; as often as

74

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

not he was sitting on it. And then he would smile,
not genially, but with the weariness that comes to
a man who feels that fate has cast his lot among
a band of hopeless idiots.

" All the time, right in front of your noses I ”

He would not finish the sentence ; he prided him-
self on his self-control.

This settled, he would start for the hall, where
it was the custom of my Aunt Maria to have the
children gathered, ready to say good-bye to him.

My aunt never left the house herself, if only to
make a call next door, without taking a tender
farewell of every inmate. One never knew, she
would say, what might happen.

One of them, of course, was sure to be missing,
and the moment this was noticed all the other six,
without an instant’s hesitation, would scatter with
a whoop to find it. Immediately they were gone it
would turn up by itself from somewhere quite near,
alwa5'^s with the most reasonable explanation for its
absence ; and would at once start off after the others
to explain to them that it was found. In this way, five
minutes at least would be taken up in everybody’s
looking for everybody else, which was just sufficient
time to allow my uncle to find his umbrella and lose
his hat. Then, at last, the group reassembled in the
hall, the drawing-room clock would commence to
strike nine. It possessed a cold, penetrating chime
that always had the effect of confusing my uncle.
In his excitement he would kiss some of the children
twice over, pass by others, forget whom he had
kissed and whom he hadn’t, and have to begin all
over again. He used to say he believed they mixed
themselves up on purpose, and I am not prepared to
maintain that the charge was altogether false. To

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

75

add to his troubles, one child always had a sticky
face ; and that child would always be the most
affectionate.

If things were going too smoothly, the eldest boy
would come out with some tale about all the clocks
in the house being five minutes slow, and of his
having been late for school the previous day in
consequence. This would send my uncle rushing
impetuously down to the gate, where he would
recollect that he had with him neither his bag nor
his umbrella. All the children that my aunt could
not stop would charge after him, two of them
struggling for the umbrella, the others surging round
the bag. And when they returned we would discover
on the hall table the most important thing of all
that he had forgotten, and wondered what he would
say about it when he came home.

\Ve arrived at Waterloo a little after nine, and at
once proceeded to put George’s experiment into
operation. Opening the book at the chapter entitled
“ At the Cab Rank,” we walked up to a hansom,
raised our hats, and wished the driver “ Good-
morning.”

This man was not to be outdone in politeness by
any foreigner, real or imitation. Calling to a friend
named ” Charles ” to " hold the steed,” he sprang
from his box, and returned to us a bow that would
have done credit to Mr. Turveydrop himself.
Speaking apparently in the name of the nation, he
welcomed us to England, adding a regret that Her
Majesty was not at the moment in London.

We could not reply to him in kind. Nothing of
this sort had been anticipated by the book. We
called him ” coachman,” at which he again bowed
to the pavement, and asked him if he would have

76 THREE MICN ON THE BUMMEL

the goodness to drive us to the Westminster Bridge
road.

He laid his hand upon his heart, and said the
pleasure would be his.

Taking the third sentence in the chapter, George
asked him what his fare would be.

The question, as introducing a sordid element
into the conversation, seemed to hurt his feelings.
He said he never took money from distinguished
strangers ; he suggested a souvenir — a diamond
scarf pin, a gold snuffbox, some little trifle of that
sort by which he could remember us.

As a small crowd had collected, and as the joke
was drifting rather too far in the cabman’s direction,
we climbed in without further parley, and were
driven away amid cheers. We stopped the cab at a
boot shop a little past Astley’s Theatre that looked
the sort of place we wanted. It was one of those
overfed shops that the moment their shutters are
taken down in the morning disgorge their goods all
round them. Boxes of boots stood piled on the
pavement or in the gutter opposite. Boots hung in
festoons about its doors and windows. Its sun-
blind was as some grimy vine, bearing bunches of
black and brown boots. Inside, the shop was a
bower of boots. The man, when we entered, was
busy with a chisel and hammer opening a new crate
full of boots.

George raised his hat, and said ‘‘ Good-morning.”

The man did not even turn round. He struck me
from the first as a disagreeable man. He grunted
something which might have been “ Good-morning,”
or might not, and went on with his work.

George said : "I have been recommended to youi
shop by my friend, Mr. X.”

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

77

In response, the man should have said : " Mr. X.
is a most worthy gentleman ; it will give me the
greatest pleasure to serve any friend of his.”

What he did say was : " Don’t know him ; ne^C^er
heard of him.”

This was disconcerting. The book gave three or
four methods of buying boots ; George had carefully
selected the one centred round " Mr. X,” as being
of all the most courtly. You talked a good deal
with the shopkeeper about this ” Mr. X,” and then,
when by this means friendsliip and understanding
had been established, you slid naturally and grace-
fully into the immediate object of your coming,
namely, your desire for boots, “ cheap and good.”
This gross, material man cared, apparently, nothing
for the niceties of retail dealing. It was necessary
with such an one to come to business with brutal
directness. George abandoned ” Mr. X,” and
turning back to a previous page, took a sentence at
random. It was not a happy selection ; it was a
speech that would have been superfluous made to
any bootmaker. Under the present circumstances,
threatened and stifled as we were on every side by
boots, it possessed the dignity of positive imbecility.
It ran ; — ” One has told me that you have here
boots for sale.”

For the first time the man put down his hammer
and chisel, and looked at us. He spoke slowly, in a
thick and husky voice. He said :

” What d’ye think I keep boots for — to smell
’em ? ” ^

He was one of those men that begin quietly and
grow more angry as they proceed, their wrongs
apparently working within them like yeast.

” What d’ye think I am,” he continued, " a boot

78

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

collector ? What d’ye think I 'm running this shop
for — my health ? D’ye think I love the boots, and
can’t bear to part with a pair ? D’ye think I hang
’em about here to look at ’em ? Ain’t there enough
of ’em ? Where d’ye think you are — in an inter-
national exhibition of boots ? What d’ye think
these boots are — a historical collection ? Did you
ever hear of a man keeping a boot shop and not
selling boots ? D’ye think I decorate the shop with
’em to make it look pretty ? What d’ye take me
for — a prize idiot ? ”

1 have always maintained that these conversation
books are never of any real use. What we wanted
was some English equivalent for the well-known
German idiom : " Behalten Sie Ihr Haar auf.”

Nothing of the sort was to be found in the book
from beginning to end. However, I will do George
the credit to admit he chose the very best sentence
that was to be found therein and applied it. He
said :

“ I will come again, when, perhaps, you will have
some more boots to show me. Till then, adieu ! ”

With that we returned to our cab and drove
away, leaving the man standing in the centre of his
boot-bedecked doorway addre.ssing remarks to us.
What he said, I did not hear, but the passers-by
appeared to find it interesting.

George was for stopping at another boot shop
and trying the experiment afresh ; he said he really
did want a pair of bedroom slippers. But we
persuaded him to postpone their purchase until out
arrival in some foreign city, where the tradespeople
are no doubt more inured to this sort of talk, or else
more naturally amiable. On the subject of the hat,
however, he was adamant. He maintained that

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

79

without that he could not travel, and, accoidingly,
we pulled up at a small shop in the Blackfriars Road.

The proprietor of this shop was a cheery, bdght-
eyed little man, and he helped us rather than
hindered us.

When George asked him in the words of the
book, “ Have you any hats ? ” he did not get angry ;
he just stopped and thoughtfully scratched his chin.

‘‘ Hats,” said he. ” Let me think. Yes ” — here
a smile of positive pleasure broke over his genial
countenance — ” yes, now I come to think of it, I
believe 1 have a hat. But, tell me, why do you
ask me ? ”

George explained to him that he wished to
purchase a cap, a travelling cap, but the essence of
the transaction was that it was to be a ‘‘ good cap.”

The man’s face fell.

” Ah,” he remarked, “ there, I am afraid, you have
me. Now, if you had wanted a bad cap, not worth
the price asked for it ; a cap good for nothing but to
clean windows with, I could have found you the very
thing. But a good cap — no ; we don’t keep them.
But wait a minute,” he continued, on seeing the
disappointment that spread over George’s expressive
countenance, “ don’t be in a hurry. I have a cap
here ” — he went to a drawer and opened it — “ it is
not a good cap, but it is not so bad as most of the
caps I sell.”

He brought it forward, extended on his palm.

” What do you think of that ? ” he asked.
" Could you put up with that ? ”

George fitted it on before the glass, and, choosing
another remark from the book, said :

” This hat fits me sufficiently well, but, tell me,
do you consider that it becomes me ? ’*

8o

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

The man stepped back and took a bird’s-eye view,

" Candidly,” he replied, ” I can’t say that it
does.”

He turned from George, and addressed himsdf
to Harris and myself.

” Your friend’s beauty,” said he, ” I should
describe as elusive. It is there, but you can easily
miss it. Now, in that cap, to my mind, you do
miss it.”

At that point it occurred to George that he had
had sufficient fun with this particular man. He
said :

" That is all right. We don’t want to lose the
train. How much ? ”

Answered the man : " The price of that cap, sir,
which, in my opinion, is twice as much as it is
worth, is four-and-six. Would you like it wrapped
up in brown paper, sir, or in white ? ”

George said he would take it as it was, paid the
man four-and-six in silver, and went out. Harris
and I followed.

At Fenchurch Street wc compromised with our
cabman for five shillings. He made us another
courtly bow, and begged us to remember him to
the Emperor of Austria.

Comparing views in the train, we agreed that we
had lost the game by two points to one ; and George,
who was evidently disappointed, threw the book
out of window.

We found our luggage and the bicycles safe oii
the boat, and with the tide at twelve dropped down
the river.

CHAPTER V

4 necessary digression— Introduced by story containing
moral — One of the charms of this book — The Journal
that did not command success — Its boast : “ Instruc-
tion combined with Amusement” — Problem: say
what should be considered instructive and what
amusing — A popular game — Expert opinion on
English law-— Another of the charms of this book —
A hackneyed tune — Yet a third charm of this book
— The sort of wood it was where the maiden lived
— Description of the lUack Forest.

A STORY is told of a Scotcliman who, loving a lassie,
desired her for his wife. But he possessed the
prudence of Ids race. He had noticed in his circle
many an otherwise promising union result in dis-
appointment and dismay, purely in consequence of
the false estimate formed by bride or bridegroom
concerning the imagined perfectability of the other.
He determined that in his own case no collapsed
ideal should be possible. Therefore, it was that his
proposal took the following form :

" I ’m but a puir lad, Jennie ; I hae nae siller to
offer ye, and nae land.”

“ Ah, but ye hae yoursel’, Davie ! ”

” An I ’m wishfu’ it wa’ ony thing else, lassie.
I 'm nae but a puir ill-seasoned loon, Jennie.”

“ Na, na ; there 's mony a lad mair ill-looking
than yoursel’, Davie.”

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THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

“ I hae na seen him, lass, and I 'm just a-thinkin’
I shouldna’ care to.”

“ Better a plain man, Davie, that ye can depend
a' than ane that would be a speirin’ at the lassies,
a-bringin’ trouble into the hame wi’ his flouting
w'ays.”

” Dinna ye reckon on that, Jennie ; it ’s nae the
bonniest Bubbly Jock that mak’s the most feathers
to fly in the kailyard. I was ever a lad to run after
the petticoats, as is wecl kent ; an’ it ’s a weary
handfu’ I ’ll be to ye, I 'm thinkin’.”

” Ah, but ye hae a kind heart, Davie ! an’ ye love
me week I ’rn sure on’t.”

” I like ye weed cnoo’, Jennie, though I canna say
how long the feeling may bide wi’ me ; an’ I ’m kind
’enoo’ when I hae my ain way, an’ naethin’ happens
to put me oot. But I hae the decvil’s ain temper,
as my mither can tell ye, an’ like my puir fayther,
I ’m a-thinkin’, I ’ll grow nae better as I grow mair
auld.”

“ Ay, but ye ’re sair hard upon yersel’, Davie.
Ye ’re an honest lad. I ken ye better than ye ken
yersel’, an’ ye ’ll niak a guid hame for me.”

” Maybe, Jennie ! But I hae my doots. It ’s a
sair thing for wife an’ bairns w'hen the guid man
canna keep awa’ frae the glass ; an’ when the scent
of the whusky comes to me it ’s just as though I
hae’d the throat o’ a Loch Tay salmon ; it just gaes
doon an’ doon, an’ there ’s nae filling o’ me.”

“ Ay, but ye ’re a guid man when ye ’re sober-
Davie.”

” Maybe I ’ll be that, Jennie, if I ’m nae dis-
turbed.”

” An’ ye ’ll bide wi’ me, Davie, an’ work for me ? ”

f‘ I see nae reason why I shouldna bide wi’ yet

84

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEl.

Jennie ; but dinna ye clack aboot work to me, foi
I just carina bear the thoct o’t.”

“ Anyho'w, ye ’ll do your best, Davie ? As the
minister says, nae man can do rnair than that.”

" An’ it ’s a puir best that mine ’ll be, Jennie, and
I ’m nae sae sure ye ’ll hae ower muckle even o’ that.
We ’re a’ weak, sinfu’ creatures, Jennie, an’ ye ’d
hae some deefficulty to find a man weaker or mair
sinfu’ than mysel’.”

” Weel, weel, ye hae a truthfu’ tongue, Davie.
Mony a lad will mak fine promises to a puir lassie,
only to break ’em an’ her heart wi’ ’em. Ye speak
me fair, Davie, and I ’m thinkin’ I ’ll just lak ye,
an’ see what comes o’t.”

Concerning what did come of it, the story is
silent, but one feels that under no circumstances
had the lady any right to complain of her bargain.
Whether she ever did or did not — for women do
not invariably order their tongues according to
logic, nor men either for the matter of that — Davie,
himself, must have had the satisfaction of reflecting
that all reproaches were undeserved.

I wish to be equally frank with the reader of this
book. I wish here conscientiously to let forth its
shortcomings. I wish no one to read this book
under a misapprehension.

There will be no useful information in this book.

Anyone who should think that with the aid of
this book he would be able to make a tour through
Germany and the Black Forest would probably lose
himself before he got to the Nore. That, at all
events, would be the best thing that could happen
to him. The farther away from home he got, the
greater only would be his difficulties.

I do not regard the conveyance of useful

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

85

(nformalion as my forte. This belief was not
mborn with me ; it has been driven home upon
me by experience.

In my early journalistic days, 1 served upon a paper,
the forerunner of many very popular periodicals of
the present day. Our boast was that we combined
instruction with amusement ; as to what should be
regarded as affording amusement and what instruc-
tion, the reader judged for himself. We gave advice
to people about to marry — long, earnest advice that
would, had they followed it, have made our circle of
readers the envy of the whole married world. We
told our subscribers how to make fortunes by keeping
rabbits, giving facts and figures. The thing that
must have surprised them was that we ourselves did
not give up journalism and start rabbit-farming.
Often and often have I proved conclusively from
authoritative sources how a man starting a rabbit
farm with twelve selected raobits and a little judg-
ment must, at the end of three years, be in receipt
of an income of two thousand a year, rising rapidly ;
he simply could not help himself. He might not
want the money. He might not know what to do
with it when he had it. 13ut there it was for him.
I have never met a rabbit farmer myself worth
two thousand a year, though I have known many
start with the twelve necessary, assorted rabbits.
Something has always gone wrong somewhere ;
maybe the continued atmosphere of a rabbit farm
saps the judgment.

We told our readers how many bald-headed men
there were in Iceland, and for all we knew our figures
may have been correct ; how many red herrings
placed tail to mouth it would take to reach from
London to Rome, which must have been useful

86

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

to anyone desirous of laying down a line of red
herrings from London to Rome, enabling him to
order in the right quantity at the beginning ; how
many words the average woman spoke in a day ;
and other such like items of information calculated
to make them wise and great beyond the readers
of other journals.

We told them how to cure fits in cats. Personally
I do not believe, and I did not believe then, that
you can cure fits in cats. If I had a cat subject
to fits I should advertise it for sale, or even give
it away. But our duty was to supply information
when asked for. Some fool wrote, clamouring to
know ; and I spent the best part of a morning
seeking knowledge on the subject. I found what
I wanted at length at the end of an old cookery
book. What it was doing there I have never been
able to understand. It had no filing to do with the
proper subject of the book whatever ; there was no
suggestion that you could make anything savoury
out of a cat, even when you had cured it of its fits
The authoress had just thrown in this paragraph
out of pure generosity. I can only say that I wish
she had left it out ; it w'as the cause of a deal of
angry correspondence and of the loss of four
subscribers to the paper, if not more. The man
said the result of following our advice had been two
pounds worth of damage to his kitchen crockery,
to say nothing of a broken window and probable
blood poisoning to himself ; added to which the
cat’s fits were worse than before. And yet it was
a simple enough recipe. You held the cat between
your legs, gently, so as not to hurt it, and with a pair
of scissors made a sharp, clean cut in its tail. You
did not cut off any part of the tail ; you were to

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 87

be careful not to do that ; you only made an
incision.

As we explained to the man, the garden or the
CO d cellar would have been the proper place for the
operation ; no one but an idiot would have attempted
to perform it in a kitchen, and without help.

We gave them hints on etiquette. We told them
how to address peers and bishops ; also how to cat
soup. We instructed shy young men how to acquire
easy grace in drawing-rooms. We taught dancing
to both sexes by the aid of diagrams. We solved
their religious doubts for them, and supplied them
with a code of morals that would have done credit
to a stained-glass window.

The paper was not a financial success, it was some
years before its time, and the consequence was that
our staff was limited. My own department, I
remember, included “ Advice to Mothers ” — I wrote
that with the assistance of my landlady, who,
having divorced one husband and buried four
children, was, I considered, a reliable authority on
ail domestic matters ; “ Hints on Furnishing and
Household Decorations — with Designs ” ; a column
of " I.iterary Counsel to Beginners ” — I sincerely
hope my guidance was of better service to them
than it has ever proved to myself ; and our weekly
article, " Straight Talks to Young Men,” signed
” Uncle Henry.” A kindly, genial old fellow was
” Uncle Henry,” with wide and varied experience,
and a sympathetic attitude towards the rising
generation. He had been through trouble himself
in his far back youth, and knew most things. Even
to this day I read ” Uncle Henry’s ” advice, and,
though I say it who should not, it still seems to
me good, sound advice. I often think that had I

88

THREE MEK ON THE BIJMMEL

followed " Uncle Henry’s ” counsel closer I would
have been wiser, made fewer mistakes, felt better
satisfied with myself than is now the case.

A quiet, weary little woman, who lived in a bed-
sitting room off the Tottenham Court Road, and
who had a husband in a lunatic asylum, did our
“ Cooking Column,” “ Hints on Education ” — we
were full of hints, — and a page and a half of
‘‘ Fashionable Intelligence,” written in the pertly
personal st5’le which even yet has not altogether
disappeared, so I am informed, from modem
journalism : “ I must tell you about the divine
frock I wore at ‘ Glorious Goodwood ' last week.
Prince C. — but there, I really must not repeat all
the things the silly fellow says ; he is too foolish —
and the dear Countess, I fancy, was just the weeish
bit jealous ” — and so on.

Poor little woman ! I see her now in the shabby
grey alpaca, with the inkstains on it. Perhaps a day
at ” Glorious Goodwood,” or anywhere else in the
fresh air, might have put some colour into her cheeks.

Our proprietor — one of the most unashamedly
ignorant men I ever met — I remember his gravely
informing a correspondent once that Ben Jonson
had written Rabelais to pay for his mother’s funeral,
and only laughing good-naturedly when his mistakes
were pointed out to him — wrote with the aid of a
cheap encyclopaedia the pages devoted to " General
Information,” and did them on the whole remarkably
well : while our office boy, with an excellent pair of
scissors for his assistant, was responsible for our
supply of “ Wit and Humour.”

It was hard work, and the pay was poor , what
sustained us was the consciousness that we were
flistructing and improving our fellow men and

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

89

women. Of all games in the world, the one most
universally and eternally popular is the game of
school. You collect six children, and put them on
a doorstep, while you walk up and down with the
book and cane. We play it when babies, we play
it when boys and girls, vve play it when men and
women, we play it as, lean and slippered, we totter
towards the grave. It never palls upon, it never
M'earies us. Only one thing mars it : the tendency
of one and all of the olhcr six children to clamour
for their turn with the book and the cane. The
reason, I am sure, that journalism is so popular a
calling, in spite of its many drawbacks, is this :
each journalist feels he is the boy walking up and
dowm with the cane. The Cfovernraent, the Classes,
and the Masses, Society, Art, and Literature, are
the other children sitting on the doorstep. He
instructs and improves them.

But I digress. It was to excuse my present
permanent disinclination to be the vehicle of useful
information that I recalled these matters. Let us
now return.

Somebody, signing himself " Balloonist," had
written to ask concerning the manufacture of
hydrogen gas. It is an easy thing to manufacture
— at least, so I gathered after reading up the subject
at the British Museum ; yet I did warn ‘‘ Balloonist,"
whoever he might be, to take all necessary pre-
caution against accident. What more could I have
done ? Ten days afterwards a florid-faced lady
called at the office, leading by the hand what, she
explained, was her son, aged twelve. The boy’s
face was unimpressive to a degree positively
remarkable. His mother pushed him forward and
took off his hat, and then I perceived the reason

90

TIIKKK MRN ON THE BUMMKL

for this. Ho had no eyebrows whatever, and of his
hair notliing remained but a scrubby dust, giving to
his head tlie appearance of a hard-boiled egg,
skinned and sprinkled with black pepper.

" That was a h.andsome lad this time last week,
with naturally curly hair,’' remarked the lady. She
spoke with a rising inflection, suggestive of the
beginning of things.

“ What has happened to him ? ” asked our chief.

" This is what ’s happened to him,” retorted
the lady. She drew from her muff a copy of our
last week's issue, with my article on hydrogen gas
scored in pencil, and flung it before his eyes. Our
chief took it and read it through.

“ He was ‘ Balloonist ’ ? ” queried the chief.

" He was ‘ Balloonist,’ ” admitted the lady, ” the
poor innocent child, and now look at him ! ”

" Maybe it ’ll grow again,” suggested our chief.

“ Maybe it will,” retorted the lady, her key
continuing to rise, “ and maybe it won’t. What
1 want to know is Avhat you are going to do for
him.”

Our chief suggested a hair wash. I thought at
lii'st she was going to fly at him ; but for the
moment she confined herself to words. It appears
she was not thinking of a hair wash, but of com-
pensation. She also made observations on the
general character of our paper, its utilit3^ its claim
to public support, the sense and wisdom of its
contributors.

“ I really don t see that it is our fault,” urged the
chief — he was a mild-mannered man ; “ he asked
for information, and he got it.”

“ Don’t you try to be funny about it,” said the
lady (he had not meant to be funny, I am sure ;

93 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

ievily was not his failing) “ or you '11 get something
that you haven’t asked for. Why, for two pins,”
said the lady, with a suddenness that sent us both
flying hke scuttled chickens behind our respective
chairs, " I 'd come round and make your head like
it ! ” I take it, she meant like the boy’s. She also
added observations upon our chief’s personal
appearance, that were distinctly in bad taste. She
was not a nice woman by any means.

Myself, I am of opinion that had she brought the
action she threatened, she would have had no case ;
but our chief was a man who had had experience
of the law, and his principle was always to avoid it.
I have heard him say ;

” If a man stopped me in the street and demanded
of me my watch, I should refuse to give it to him.
If he threatened to take it by force, I feel I should,
though not a fighting man, do my best to protect it.
If, on the other hand, he should assert his intention
of trying to obtain it by means of an action in any
court of law, I should take it out of my pocket and
hand it to him, and think I had got off cheaply.”

He squared the matter with the florid-faced lady
for a five-pound note, which must have represented
a month’s profits on the paper ; and she departed,
taking her damaged offspring with her. After she
was gone, our chief spoke kindly to me. He said ;

” Don’t think I am blaming you in the least ; it
is not your fault, it is Fate. Keep to moral advice
and criticism — there you are distinctly good ; but
don’t try your hand any more on ‘ Useful Informa-
tion.’ As I have said, it is not your fault. Your
information is correct enough — there is nothing to
be said against that ; it simply is that you are not
lucky with it.”

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

93

I would that I had followed his advice always ; I
would have saved myself and other people much
disaster. I see no reason why it should be, but so
it is If I instruct a man as to the best route
between London and Rome, he loses his luggage
in Switzeriand, or is nearly shipwrecked off Dover.
If I counsel him in the purchase of a camera, he
gets run in by the German police for photographing
fortresses. I once took a deal of trouble to explain
to a man how to marry his deceased wife’s sister at
Stockholm. I found out for him the time the boat
left Hull and the best hotels to stop at. There was
not a single mistake from beginning to end in the
information with which I supplied him ; no hitch
occurred anywhere ; yet now he never speaks to me.

Therefore it is that I have come to restrain my
passion for the giving of information ; therefore it
is that nothing in the nature of practical instruction
wall be found, if I can help it, within these pages.

There will be no description of towns, no historical
reminiscences, no architecture, no morals.

I once asked an intelhgent foreigner what he
thought of London.

He said • “ It is a very big town.”

I said : " What struck you most about it ? ”

He replied ; “ The people.”

I said : “ Compared with other towns — Paris,

Rome, Berlin, — what did you think of it ? ”

He shrugged his shoulders. " It is bigger,” he
said ; ” what more can one say ? ”

One anthill is very much like another. So many
avenues, wide or narrow, w’here the little creatures
swarm in strange confusion ; these bustling by,
important ; these halting to pow-w'ow with one
another. These struggling with big burdens ; those

94 rilREE MExN OJN THE HUMMEL

*

but baskiiig in the sun. So many granaries stored
with food ; so many cells where the little things
sleep, and eat, and love ; the corner where lie their
little white bones. This hive is larger, the next
smaller. This nest lies on the sand, and another
under the stones. This was built but yesterday,
while that was fashioned ages ago. some say even
before the swallows came ; who knows ?

Nor will there be found herein folk-lore or story.

Every valley where lie homesteads has its song.
I will tell you the plot ; you can turn it into verse
and set it to music of your o\vn.

There lived a lass, and there came a lad, who
loved and rode away.

It is a monotonous song, written in many
languages ; for the young man seems to have been
a mighty traveller. Here in sentimental Germany
they remember him well. So also the dwellers of
the Blue Alsatian Mountains remember his coming
among them ; while, if my memory serves me truly,
he likewise visited the Banks of Allan Water. A
veritable Wandering J ew is he ; for still the foolish
girls listen, so they say, to the dying away of his
hoof-beats.

In this land of many ruins, that long while ago
were voice-filled homes, linger many legends ; and
here again, giving you the essentials, I leave you to
cook the dish for youiself. Take a human heart or
two, assorted ; a bundle of human passions — there
are not many of them, half a dozen at the most ;
season with a mixture of good and evil ; flavour the
whole with the sauce of death, and serve up where and
when you will. “ The Saint’s Cell," “ The Haunted
Keep,” “ The Dungeon Grave,” “ The Lover’s Leap ’*
it what you will, the stew 's the same.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

95

Lastly, in this book there will be no scenery.
This is not laziness on my part ; it is self-control.
Nothing is easier to write than scenery ; nothing
more difficult and unnecessary to read. When
Gibbon had to trust to travellers’ tales for a
description of the Hellespont, and the Rhine was
chiefly familiar to English students through the
medium of CcEsar’s Commentaries, it behoved every
globe-trotter, for whatever distance, to describe to
the best of his ability the things that he had seen.
Dr. Johnson, familiar with little else than the view
down Fleet Street, could read the description of a
Yorkshire moor with pleasure and with profit. To
a cockney who had never seen higher ground than
the Hog’s Back in Surrey, an account of Snowdon
must have appeared exciting. But we, or rather
the steam-engine and the camera for us, have
changed all that. The man who plays tennis every
year at the foot of the Matterhorn, and billiards on
the summit of the Kigi, does not thank you for an
elaborate and painstaking description of the Gram-
pian Hills. To the average man, who has seen a
dozen oil paintings, a hundred photographs, a
thousand pictures in the illustrated journals, and a
couple of panoramas of Niagara, the word-painting
of a waterfall is tedious.

An American friend of mine, a cultured gentleman,
who loved poetry well enough for its own sake,
told me that he had obtained a more correct and
more satisfying idea of the Lake district from
an eighteenpenny book of photographic views than
from all the works of Coleridge, Southey, and
Wordsworth put together. I also remember his
saying concerning this subject of scenery in litera-
ture, that he would thank an author as much for

96

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

writing an eloquent description of what he had just
had for dinner. But this was in reference to another
argument ; namely, the proper province of each art.
My friend maintained that just as canvas and
colour were the wrong mediums for story telling,
so w'ord-painting was, at its best, but a clumsy
method of convejing impressions that could much
better be received through the eye.

As regards the question, there also lingers in my
memory very distinctly a hot school afternoon. The
class \vas for Ifnglish literature, and the proceedings
commenced with the reading of a certain hngthy,
Imt otherwise unobjectionable, poem. The author’s
name, I am ashamed to say, I have forgotten,
together with the title of the poem. The reading
fmished, we closed our books, and the Professor, a
kindly, white-haired old gentleman, suggested our
giving in our own words an account of what we had
just read.

“ Tell me,” said the Professor, encouragingl}',
” what it is all about.”

” Please, sir,” said the first boy — he spoke with
bowed head and evident reluctance, as though the
subject were one wliich, left to liimself, he would
never hav’c mentioned, — ” it is about a maiden.”

” Yes,” agreed the Professor ; “ but 1 want you to
tell me in your own words. We do not speak of a
maiden, you know ; we say a girl. Yes, it is about
a girl (io on.”

” A girl,” repeated the top boy, the substitution
apparently increasing his embarrassment, " w'ho
lived in a wood.”

“ What .sort of a wood ? ” asked the Proh.'ssor.

The first boy examined his inkpot carefully, and
then looked at the ceiling.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

97

" Come,” urged the Professor, growing impatient,
" you have been reading about this wood for the
last ten minute's. Surely you can tell me something
concerning it.”

" The gnarly trees, their twisted branches ” —
recommenced the top boy.

” No, no,” interrupted the Professor ; " I do not
want you to repeat the poem. I want you to tell
me in your own words what sort of a wood it was
where the girl lived.”

The Profe.ssor tapjied his foot impatiently ; the
top boy made a dash tor it.

” Please, sir, it was the usual sort of a wood.”

” Tell him what sort of a wood,” said he, pointing
to the second lad.

The second boy said it was a “ green wood.”
This annoyed the Professor still more ; be called
the second boy a blockhead, though really I cannot
see why, and passed on to the third, who, for the
last minute, had been sitting apparently on hot
plates, with his right arm waving up and down like
a distracted semaphore signal. He would have had
to sav it the next second, whether the Professor had
asked him or not ; he was red in the face, holding
his knowledge in.

‘‘ A dark and gloomy wood,” shouted tlie third
boy, with, mncli relief to liis feelings.

‘‘ A dark and ghjomy wood,” r<,‘peated the Pro-
fessor, with evident ap[)roval. '* And why was it
dark and gloomy ? ”

The third boy was still equal to the occasion.

‘‘ Because the sun could not get inside it.”

The Professor felt he had discovered the poet of
tlic class,

“ Because the sun could nut get into it, or, better.

98

THREE MEN ON THE BUamET.

because the sunbeams could not penetrate. And
why could not the sunbeams penetrate there ? ”

“ Please, sir, because the leaves were too thick.”

” Very well,” said the Professor. ” The girl lived
in a dark and gloomy wood, through the leafy
canopy of whicli the sunbeams were unable to
pierce. Now, what grew in this wood ? ” He
pointed to the fourth boy

" Please, sir, trees, sir.’

“ And what else ? ”

“ Toadstools, sir.” This after a pause.

The Professor was not quite sure about the toad-
stools, but on referring to the text he found that the
boy was right ; toadstools had been mentioned.

“ Quite right,” admitted the Professor, ” toad-
stools grew there. And what else ? What do you
find underneath trees in a wood ? ”

” Please, sir, earth, sir.”

“ No ; no ; what grows in a wood besides trees ? ”

” Oh, please, sir, bushes, sir.”

" Bushes ; very good. Now we are getting on.
In this wood there were trees and bushes. And
what else ? ”

He pointed to a small boy near the bottom, who
having decided that the wood was too far off to
be of any annoyance to him, individually, was
occupying his leisure playing noughts and crosses
against himself. Vexed and bewildered, but feeling
it necessary to add something to the inventory, he
hazarded blackberries. This was a mistake • the
poet had not mentioned blackberries.

“ Of course, Klobstock would think of something
to eat,” commented the Professor, who prided
himself on his ready wit. This raised a laugh
against Klobstock, and pleased the Profe.ssor.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 99

" You," continued he, pointing to a boy in the
middle ; " what else was there in this wood besides
trees and bushes ? ”

" Please, sir, there was a torrent there.”

" Quite right ; and what did the torrent do ? ’’

" Please, sir, it gurgled."

" No ; no. Streams gurgle, torrents ? "

" Roar, sir."

“It roared. And what made it roar ? ”

'I'his was a poser. One boy — he was not our
prize intellect, I admit — suggested the girl. To help
us the Professor put his question in another form :

" When did it roar ? "

Our third bo5^ again coming to the rescue,
explained that it roared when it fell down among
the rocks. I think some of us had a vague idea
that it must have been a cowardly torrent to make
such a noise about a little thing like this ; a pluckier
torrent, we felt, would have got up and gone on,
saying nothing about it. A torrent that roared
every time it fell upon a rock we deemed a poor
spirited torrent ; but the Professor seemed quite
content with it.

“ And what lived in this wood beside the girl ? ”
was the next question.

" Please, sir, birds, sir.”

“ Yes, birds lived in this wood. What else ? ”

Birds seemed to have exhausted our ideas.

" Cfmrc," said the Professor, " what are those
animals with tails, that run up trees ? ”

We thought for a while, then one of us suggested
cats.

This was an error ; the poet had said nothing
about cats ; squirrels was what the Professor was
trying to get.

100

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

I dt> not recall much more about this wood in
detail. I only recollect that the sky was introduced
into it. In places where there occurred an opening
among the trees you could by looking up see the
sky above you ; very often there were clouds in
this sky, and occasionally, if I remember rightly,
the girl got wet.

I have dwelt upon this incident, because it seems
to me suggestive of the whole question of scenery
in literature. I could not at the time, I cannot
now, understand why the top boy’s summary was
not sufficient. With all due deference to the
poet, whoever he may have been, one cannot
but acknowledge that his wood was, and could
not be otherwise than, " the usual sort of a
wood.”

I could describe the Black Forest to you at great
length. I could translate to you Hebei, the poet of
the Black Forest. I could write pages concerning
its rock}' gorges and its smiling valleys, its pine-
clad slopes, its rock-crowned summits, its foaming
rivulets (where the tidy German has not condemned
them to flow respectably through wooden troughs
or drainpipes), its white villages, its lonely farm-
steads.

But I am haunted by the suspicion you might
skip all this. Were you sufficiently conscientious —
or weak-minded enough — not to do so, I should, all
said and done, succeed in conveying to you only an
impression much better summed up in the simple
words of the unpretentious guide book :

” A picturesque, mountainous district, bouiuh'd on
the south and the west by the plain of the Rhine,
towards which its spurs descend precipitately. Ita
geological formation consists chiefly of variegated

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL lOi

sandstone and granite ; its lower heights being
covered with extensive pine forests. It is well
watered witli numerous streams, while its populous
valleys are fertile and well cultivated. The inns arc
good ; but the local wines should be partaken of by
the stranger with discretion.”

CHAPTER VI

Why we went to Hanover — Something they do better
abroad — The art of folite foreign conversation, as
taught in English schools — A true history, now
told for the first time- — The French joke, as pro-
vided for the amusement of British youth — Fatherly
instincts of Harris — The road-wciterer, considered
as an artist — Patriotism of George — V/hat Harris
ought to have done — What he did — We save
Harris’s life — A sleepless city — The cab-horse as
a critic.

0

We arrived at Hamburg on Friday, after a smooth
and uneventful voyage ; and from Hamburg we
travelled to Berlin by way of Hanover. It is not
the most direct route. I can only account for our
visit to Hanover as the nigger accounted to the
magistrate for his appearance in the Deacon's
poultry-yard.

" Yes, sar, what the constable sez is quite true,
sar ; I was dar, sar.”

" Oh, so you admit it ? And what were you doing
with a sack, pray, in Deacon Abraham’s poultry-
yard at twelve o’clock at night ? ”

” I ’se gwine ter tell yer, sar ; yes, sar. I 'd been
to Massa Jordan’s wid a sack of melons. Yes, sar ;
an’ Massa Jordan he wuz very ’greeable, an’ axed
me for ter come in.”

” Well ? ”

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL I03

«

" Yes, sar, very 'greeable man is Massa Jordan.
An’ dar we sat a talking an’ a talking ”

“ Very likely. What we want to know is what
you were doing in the Deacon’s poultry-yard ? ”

" Yes, sar, dat ’s what I ’se camming to. It wuz
ver’ late ’fore I left Massa Jordan’s, an’ den I sez
ter mysel’, sez I, now yer jest step out with yer best
leg foremost, Ulysses, case yer gets into trouble wid
de ole woman. Ver’ talkative woman she is, sar,
very ”

“ Yes, never mind her ; there are other people very
talkative in this town besides your wife. Deacon
Abraham’s house is half a mile out of your way home
from Mr. Jordan’s. How did you get there ? ”

" Dat ’s what I ’m a-gwine ter explain, sar.”

" I am glad of that. And how do you propose
to do it ? ”

” Well, I ’se thinkin’, sar, 1 must ha’ digressed.”

I take it we digressed a little.

At first, from some reason or other, Hanover
strikes you as an uninteresting town, but it grows
upon you. It is in reality two towns ; a place of
broad, modem, handsome streets and tasteful gar-
dens ; side by side with a sixteenth-century town,
where old timbered houses overhang the narrow
lanes ; where through low archways one catches
glimpses of gallericd courtyards, once often thronged,
no doubt, with troops of horse, or blocked with
lumbering coach and six, waiting its rich merchant
owner, and his fat placid Frau, but where now
children and chickens scuttle at their will ; while over
the carved balconies hang dingy clothes a-drying.

A singularly English atmosphere hovers over
Hanover, especially on Sundays, when its shuttered
shops and clanging bells give to it the suggestion of

104 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

«

a sunnier London. Nor was this British Sunday
atmosphere apparent only to m5'self, else I might
have attributed it to imagination ; even George felt
it. Harris and I, returning from a short stroll with
our cigars after lunch on the Sunday afternoon,
found him peacefully slumbering in the smoke-
room’s easiest chair.

“ After all,” said Harris, " there is something about
the British Sunday tliat appeals to the man with
Itnglish blood in his veins. I should be sorry to see
it altogether done away with, let the new generation
say what it will.”

And taking one each end of the ample settee, we
kept George company.

To Hanover on^ should go, they say, to learn the
best German. The disadvantage is that outside
Hanover, which is only a small province, nobody
understands tins best German. Thus you have to
decide whetlicr lo speak good German and remain in
Hanover, or bad German and travel about. Germany
being separated so many centuries into a dozen
principalities, is unfortunate in possessing a variety
of dialects. Germans from Posen wishful to converse
vvith men of Wurtemburg, have to talk as f)ften as
not in French or English ; and young ladies who
have received an expensive education in Westphalia
surprise and disappoint their parents by being unable
to understand a word said to them in Mechlenberg.
An English-speaking foreigner, it is true, would find
himself equally nonjdussed among the Yorkshire
wolds, or in tlie purlieus of Whitechapel ; but the
cases are not on all fours. Throughout Germany it
is not only in the country districts and among the
uneducated that dialects arc maintained. Every
province has ) Tactically its own language, of which

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL t05

it is proud and retentive. An educated Bavarian
will admit to you that, academically speaking, the
North German is more correct ; but he will continue
to speak South German and to teach it to his
children.

In the course of the century, I am inclined to think
that Gennany will solve her difficulty in this respect
by speaking English. Every boy and girl in Germany,
above the peasant class, speaks English. Were
English pronunciation less arbitrary, there is not the
slightest doubt but that in the course of a very few
years, comparatively speaking, it would become the
language of the world. All foreigners agree that,
grammatically, it is the easiest language of any to
learn. A German, comparing it with his own lan-
guage, where every word in every sentence is governed
by at least four distinct and separate rules, tells you
that English has no grammar. A good many English
people would seem to have come to the same con-
clusion ; but they are wrong. As a matter of fact,
there is an English grammar, and one of these days
our schools will I'ecognise the fact, and it will be
taught to our children, penetrating maybe even into
literary and journalistic circles. But at present we
apjjoar to agree with the foreigner that it is a quantity
neglcctable. English pronunciation is the stumbling-
block to our progress. English spelling would seem
to have been designed chiefly as a disguise to pro-
nunciation It is a clever idea, calculated to check
presumption on the part of the foreigner ; but for
that he would learn it in a year.

For they have a way of teaching languages in
Germany that is not our way ; and the consequence
is that when the German youth or maiden leaves the
gymnasium or high school at fifteen, " it ” (as in

I 06 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

«

Germany one conveniently may say) can understand
and speak the tongue it has been learning. In
England we have a method that for obtaining the
least possible result at the greatest possible expendi-
ture of time and money is perhaps unequalled. An
English boy who has been through a good middle-
class school in England can talk to a Frenchman,
slowly and with diliiculty, about female gardeners
and aunts ; conversation which, to a man possessed
perhaps of neither, is liable to pall. Possibly, if he be
a bright exception, he may be able to tell the time, or
make a few guarded observations concerning the
weather. No doubt he could repeat a goodly number
of irregular verbs by heart ; only, as a matter of fact,
few foreigners care to listen to their own irregular
verbs, recited by young Englishmen. Likewise he
might be able to remember a choice selection of
grotesquely involved French idioms, such as no
modern Frenchman has ever heard or understands
when he does hear.

The explanation is that, in nine cases out of ten, he
has learnt French from an " Alin’s First-Course.”
The history of this famous work is remarkable and
instructive. The book was originally written for a
joke, by a witty Frenchman who had resided for some
years in England. He intended it as a satire upon
the conversational powers of British society. From
this point of view it was distinctly good. He
submitted it to a London publishing firm. The
manager was a shrewd man. He I'ead the book
through. Then he sent for the author.

" This book of yours,” said he to the author, ” is
very clever. I have laughed over it myself till the
tears came.”

” I am delighted to hear you say so,” replied the

THREE MEN ON THE HUMMEL 107

pleased Frenchman. “ I tried to be truthful without
being unnecessarily offensive.”

” It is most amusing,” concurred the manager ;
” and yet published as a harmless joke, I feel it
would fail.”

The author's face fell.

” Its humour,” proceeded the manager, " would
he denounced as forced and extravagant. It would
amuse the thoughtful and intelligent, but from a
business point oi view that portion of the public are
never worth considering. But I have an idea,”
continued the manager. He glanced round the room
t(3 be sure they were alone, and leaning forward sunk
his voice to a whisper. " My notion is to publish it
as a serious work for the use of schools ! ”

The author stared, speechless.

" I know the English schoolman,” said the
manager ; ” this book will appeal to him. It will
e.Kactly fit in with his method. Nothing sillier,
nothing more useless for the purpose will he ever
discover, lie will smack his lips over the book, as
a puppy licks up blacking.”

The author, sacrificing art to greed, consented.
They altered the title and added a vocabulary, but
left the book otherwise as it was.

The result is known to every schoolboy. ” Ahn ”
became the palladium of English philological edu-
cation. If it no longer retains its ubiquity, it is
because something even less adaptable to the object
in view has been since invented.

Lest, in spite of all, the British schoolboy should
obtain, even from the like of “ Ahn,” some glimmering
of French, the British educational method further
handicaps him by bestowing upon him the assistance
of, what is termed in the prospectus, ” A native

I 08 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

0

gentleman." This native French gentleman, who,
by-the-by, is generally a Belgian, is no doubt a most
worthy person, and can, it is true, understand and
speak his own language with tolcrabk; fluency.
Thei'e his qualifications cease. Invariably he is a
man with a quite remarkable inability to teach
anybody anything. Indeed, he would seem to be
chosen not so much as an instructor as an arnuser
of youth. He is always a comic figure. No French-
man of a dignified appearance would be engaged
for any English school. If he possess by nature
a few harmless peculiarities, calculated to cause
merriment, so much the more is he estc'cmcd by his
employers. The class naturally regards him as an
animated joke. The two to hmr hours a week that
are deliberately wasted on this ancient farce, are
looked forward to by the boys as a merry interlude
in an otherwise monotonous e.xistence. And then,
when the proud parent takes his son and heir to
Dieppe merely to discover that the lad does not
know enough to call a cab, he abuses not the system
but its innocent victim.

I confine my remarks to French, because that is
the only language we attempt to teach our youth.
An English boy who could speak German would be
looked down upon as unpatriotic. Why we waste
time in teaching even French according to this
method I have never been able to understand. A
perfect unacquaintance with a language is respect-
able. But putting aside comic journalists and lady
novelists, for whom it is a business necessity, this
smattering of French which we are so proud to
possess only serves to render us ridiculous.

In the German school the method is somewhat
different. One hour every day is devoted to the

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL lOCj

*

same language. The idea is not to give the lad
time between each lesson to forget wliat he learned
at the last ; the idea is for him to get on. There
is no comic foreigner provided for his amusement.
Tlie desired language is taught by a German school-
master who knows it inside and out as thoroughly
as he knows his own. Maybe this system does not
provide the German youth with that perfection of
foreign accent for which the British tourist is in
every land remai'kable, l)ut it has other advantages.
The boy does n(.)t call his master “ froggy,” or
“ sausage,” nor prepare for the French or English
hour any exhibition of homcOy wit wliatevcr. He
just sits then', and for his own sake tries to learn
that foix'ign tongue with as little trouble to everybody
concerned as possil)le. Whtm he has left school
he can talk, not about pen-knives and gardeners
and aunts merely, but about European politics,
history, Shakespeare, or the musical glasses, according
to the turn the conversation in.iy take.

Viewing the German people from an Anglo-Saxon
standpoint, it may be that in tliis book 1 shall find
occasion to criticise them : but on the other hand,
there is much that we might learn from them ; and
in the matter of common sense, as applied to
education, tliey can give us ninety-nine in a hundred
and beat us witli oiu" hand.

The beautiful wood of the IGlenriede bounds
Hanover on the south aiul wt'st, and here occurred
a sad drama in which Harris look a prominent
part.

We were riding our machines through this wood
on the Monday afternoon in the company of many
other cyclists, for it is a favourite resort with the
Hanoverians on a sunny afternoon, and its shady

no

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

pathways are then filled with happy, thoughtless
folk. Among them rode a young and beautiful girl
on a machine that was new. She was evidently a
novice on the bicycle. One felt instinctively that
there would come a moment when she would
require help, and Harris, with his accustomed
chivalry, suggested we should keep near her.
Harris, as he occasionally explains to George and
to myself, has daughters of his own, or, to speak
more correctly, a daughter, who as the years
progress will no doubt cease practising Catherine
wheels in the front garden, and will grow up into
a beautiful and respectable young lady. This
naturally gives Harris an interest in all beautiful
girls up to the age of thirty-five or thereabouts ;
they remind him, so he says, of home.

We had ridden for about two miles, when we
noticed, a little ahead of us in a space where five
ways met, a man with a hose, watering the roads.
The pipe, supported at each joint by a pair of tiny
wheels, writhed after him as he moved, suggesting
a gigantic worm, from whose open neck, as the
man, gripping it firmly in both hands, pointing it
now this way, and now that, now elevating it, now
depressing it, poured a strong stream of water at
the rate of about a gallon a second.

" What a much better method than ours,”
observed Harris, enthusiastically. Harris is inclined
to be chronically severe on all British institutions.
" How much simpler, quicker, and more economical !
You see, one man by this method can in five
minutes water a stretch of road that would take
us with our clumsy lumbering cart half an hour to
cover.”

George, who was riding behind me on the tandem.

TfIREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

III

said, " Yes, and it is also a method by which with
.a little carelessness a man could cover a good many
people in a good deal less time than they could get
out of the way.”

George, the opposite to Harris, is British to
the core. I remember George quite patriotically
indignant with Harris once for suggesting the
introduction of the guillotine into England.

” It is so much neater,” said Harris.

“ I don’t care if it is,” said George ; “ I 'm an
Englishman ; hanging is good enough for me.”

” Our water-cart may have its disadvantages,”
continued George, “ but it can only make you
uncomfortable about the legs, and you can avoid
it. This is the sort of machine with which a man
can follow you round the comer and upstairs.”

" It fascinates me to watch them,” said Harris.
” They are so skilful. I have seen a man from the
comer of a crowded square in Strassburg cover
every inch of ground, and not so much iis wet un
apron string. It is marvellous how they judge their
distance. They will send the water up to your toes,
and then bring it over your head so that it fails
around your heels. They can ”

“ Ease up a minute,” said George.

I said : " Why ? ”

He said : “ I am going to get off and watch the
rest of this show from behind a tree. There may
be great performers in this line, as Harris says ;
this particular artist appears to me to lack some-
thing. He has just soused a dog, and now he ’s
busy watering a sign-post. I am going to wait till
he has finished.”

” Nonsense,” said Hands ; ” he won’t wet you.”

” That is precisely what I am going to make sure

II2

THUEK MKN ON THE BUMMEL

of,” answered George, saying which he jumped off,
and, taking up a position behind a remarkably fine
elm, pulled out and commenced filling his pipe.

I did not care to take the tandem on by myself,
so I stepped off and joined him, leaving the machine
against a tree. Harris shouted something or other
about our being a disgrace to the land that gave us
birth, and rode on.

The ne.xt moment I heard a woman’s cry of
distress. Glancing round the stem of the tree, I
perceived that it proceeded from the young and
elegant lady before mentioned, whom, in our interest
concerning the road-waterer, we had forgotten.
She was riding her machine steadily and straightly
through a drenching shower of water from the hose.
She appeared to be too paralysed either to get off
or turn her wheel aside. Every instant she was
becoming wetter, while the man with the hose, who
was either drunk or blind, continued to ])our watc'r
upon her with utter indifference. A dozen voices
yelled imprecations upon him, but he took no heed
whatever.

Harris, his fatherly nature stirred to its depths,
did at this point what, under the circumstances,
was quite the right and TWOjK-r thing to do. Had
he acted throughout with the same coolness and
judgment he then displayed, he would have emerged
from that incident the hero of the hour, instead of,
as happened, riding away followed by insult and
threat. Without a moment’s hesitation he spurted
at the man, sprang to the ground, and, seizing
the hose by the nozzle, attempted to wrest it
away.

What he ought to have done, what any man
retaining his common sense would have done the

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL II3

moment he got his hands upon the thing, was to
turn off the tap. Then lie might have played foot-
ball with the man, or battledore and shuttlecock as
he pleased ; and the twenty or thirty people who
had rushed forward to assist would have only
applauded. His idea, however, as he explained to
us afterwards, was to take away the hose from the
man, and, for punishment, turn it upon the fool
himself. The waterman’s idea appeared to be the
same, namely, to retain the hose as a weapon with
which to soak Harris. Of course, the result was
that, between them, they soused every dead and
living thing within fifty yards, except themselves.
One furious man, too drenched to care what more
happened to him, leajit into the arena and also took
a hand. The three among them proceeded to sweep
the compass with that liose. They pointed it to
heaven, and the water descended upon the people in
tb.e form of an equinoctial storm. They pointed it
dowaiwards, and sent the water in rushing streams
that took people off their feet, or caught them about
the waist line, and doubled them up.

Not one of them would loosen his grip upon the
hose, not one of them thought to turn the water off.
You might have concluded they were stniggling with
some primeval f jice td nature. In forty-five seconds,
so George said, who was timing it, they had swept
that circus bare of every living thing except one
dog, who, dripping like a water nymph, rolled over
by the force of water, now on this side, now on
that, still gallantly staggered again and again to its
feet to bark defiance at what it evidently regarded
as (he powers of hell let loose.

Men and women left their machines upon the
ground, and flew into the woods. From behind

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

XI4

every tree of importance peeped out wet, angry
heads.

At last, the'^e arrived upon the sc...ne one niaii of
sense. Braving all things, he crept to the hydrant,
where still stood the iron key, and screwed it down.
And then from forty trees began to creep more or
less soaked human beings, each one with something
to say.

At first I fell to wondering whether a stretcher or
a clothes basket would be the more useful for the
conveyance of Harris’s remains back to the hotel.
I consider that George’s promptness on that occasion
saved Harris’s life. Being diy, and therefore
able to run quicker, he was there before the crowd.
Harris was for explaining things, but George cut
him short.

“ You get on that,” said George, handing him
his bicycle, ” and go. They don’t know we belong
to you, and you may trust us implicitly not to reveal
the secret. We ’ll hang about behind, and get in
their way. Ride zig-zag in case they shoot.”

I wish this book to be a strict record of fact,
unmarred by exaggeration, and therefore I have
shown my description of this incident to Harris,
lest anything beyond bald narrative may have crept
into it. Harris maintains it is exaggerated, but
admits that one or two people may have been
” sprinkled.” I have offered to turn a street hose
on him at a distance of five-and-twenty yards,
and take his opinion afterwards, as to whether
” sprinkled ” is the adequate term, but he has
declined the test. Again, he insists there could
not have been more than half a dozen people, at
the outside, involved in the catastrophe, that forty
is a ridiculous misstatement. I have offered to

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL II5

return with him to Hanover and make strict
inquiry into the matter, and this offer he has
likewise declined. Under these circumstances, T
maintain that mine is a true and restrained
narrative of an event that is, by a certain number
of Hanoverians, remembered with bitterness unto
this very day.

We left Hanover that same evening, and arrived
at Berlin in time for supper and an evening stroll.
Berlin is a disappointing town ; its centre over-
crowded, its outlying parts lifcle.ss ; its one famous
street, Untcr den Linden, an attempt to combine
Oxford Street witli the Champs Elysee, singularly
unimposing, being much too wide for its size ; its
theatres dainty and charming, where acting is
considered of more importance than scenery or
dress, where long runs are unknown, successful
pieces being played again and again, but never
consecutively, so that for a week running you may
go to the same Berlin theatre and see a fresh play
every night ; its opera house unworthy of it ; its
two music I'.nlls, with an unnecessary suggestion of
\mlgarity and commonness about them, ill-arranged
and much too large for comfort. Tn the Berlin
cafes and restaurants, the busy time is from
midnight on till three. Yet most of the people
who frccpient them are up again at seven. Either
the Berliner has solved the great problem of
modern life, how to do without sleep, or, with
Carlyle, he must be looking forward to eternity.

Personally, I know of no other town where such
late hours are the vogue, except St. Petersburg, But
your St. Petersburger does not get up early in the
morning. At St. Petersburg, the music halls, which
»t is the fashionable thing to attend after the theatre

Il6 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMKL

I

— a drive to them taking half an hour in a swift
sleigh — do not practically begin till twelve. Through
the Neva at four o’clock in the morning you have
to literally push your way ; and the favourite trains
for travellers are those starting about five o’clock
in the morning. These trains save the Russian the
trouble of getting up early. He wishes his friends
" Good-night,” and drives dovm to the station
comfortably after supper, without putting the house
to any inconvenience.

Potsdam, the Versailles to Berlin, is a beautiful
little town, situate among lakes and woods. Here
in the shady ways of its quiet, far-stretching park
of Sans Souci, it is easy to imagine lean, snuffy
Frederick “ bummeling ” with shrill Voltaire.

Acting on mj' advice, George and Harris con-
sented not to stay long in Berlin ; but to push on
to Dresden. Most that Berlin has to show can be
seen better elsewhere, and we decided to be content
with a drive through the town. The hotel porter
introduced us to a droschke driver, under whose
guidance, so he assured us, we should see everything
worth seeing in the shortest possible time The
man himself, who called for us at nine o’clock in
the morning, was all that could be desired. He was
bright, intelligent, and well-informed ; his German
was easy to understand, and he knew a little English
\vith which to eke it out on occasion. With the
man himself there was no fault to be found, but his
horse was the most unsympathetic brute I have
ever sat behind.

He took a dislike to us the moment he saw us.
I was the first to come out of the hotel. He turned
his head, and looked me up and down with a cold,
glassy eye ; and then he looked across at another

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL II7

horse, a friend of his that was standing facing him.
I knew what he said. He had an expressive head,
and he made no attempt to disguise his thought.
He said :

" Funny things one does come across in tlie
summer time, don’t one ? ”

George followed me out the next moment, and
stood behind me. The horse again turned his head
and looked. I have never known a horse that could
twist himself as this horse did. I have seen a
camelopard do tricks with his neck that compelled
one’s attention, but this animal was more like the
thing one dreams of after a dusty days at Ascot,
followed by a dinner with six old chums. If I had
seen his eyes looking at me from between his own
hind legs, I doubt if I should have been surprised.
He scorned more amused with George, if anything,
than with myself. He turned to his friend again.

“ liixtraordinary, isn’t it ? ” he remarked ; " I
suppose there must be some place where they grow
them ” ; and tlicn lie commenced licking flies off his
own left shoulder. I began to wonder whether he
had lost his mother when young, and had been
brought up by a cat.

George and I climbed in, and sat waiting for
Harris. He came a moment later. Myself, I
thought he looked rather neat. He wore a white
flannel knickeibocker suit, which he had had made
specially for bicvcling in hot weather ; his hat may
have been a trifle out of the common, but it did
keep the sun off.

The horse gave one look at him, said “ Gott in
Himmol ! ” as plainly as ever horse spoke, and
started off down Friedrich Strasso at a brisk walk,
leaving Harris and tlie driver standing on the

Il8 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

pavement. His owner called to him to stop, but he
took no notice. They ran after us, and overtook us
at the corner of the Dorotheen Strasse. I could
not catch what the man said to the horse, he spoke
quickly and excitedly ; but I gathered a few phrases,
such as :

" Got to earn my living somehow, haven’t I ? ”
“ Who asked for your opinion ? ” “ Aye, little you
care so long as you can guzzle.”

The horse cut the conversation short by turning
up the Dorotheen Strasse on his own account. 1
think what he said was :

" Come on then ; don’t talk so much. Let ’s get
the job over, and, where possible, let ’s keep to the
back streets.”

Opposite the Brandenburger Thor our driver
hitched the reins to the whip, climbed down, and
came round to explain things to us. He pointed
out the Thiergarten, and then descanted to us of
the Reichstag House. He informed us of its exact
height, length, and breadth, after the manner of
guides. Then he turned his attention to the Gate.
He said it was constructed of sandstone, in imitation
of the " Properleer ” in Athens.

At this point the horse, which had been occupying
its leisure licking its own legs, turned round its
head. It did not say anything, it just looked.

The man began again nervously. This time he
said it was an imitation of the ” Propeyedliar.”

Here the horse proceeded up the Linden, and
nothing would persuade him not to proceed up the
Linden. His owner expostulated with him, but he
continued to trot on. From the way he hitched his
shoulders as he moved, I somehow felt he was
saying ;

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL tig

" They 've seen the Gate, haven’t they ? Very
well, that 's enough. As for the rest, you don't
know what you are talking about, and they wouldn’t
understand you if you did. You talk German.”

It was the same throughout the length of the
Linden. The horse consented to stand still suffi-
ciently long to enable us to have a good look at each
sight, and to hear the name of it. All explanation
and description he cut short by the simple process
of moving on.

“ What these fellows want,” he seemed to say to
himself, " is to go home and tell people they have
seen these things. If I am doing them an injustice,
if they are more intelligent than they look, they can
get better information than this old fool of mine is
giving them from the guide book. Who wants to
know how high a steeple is ? You don’t remember
it the next five minutes when you are told, and if
you do it is because you have got nothing else in
yoiir head. He just tires me with his talk. Why
doesn’t he hurry up, and let us all get home to
lunch ? ”

Upon reflection, I am not sure that wall-eyed old
brute had not sense on its side. Anyhow, I know
there have been occasions, Avith a guide, when I
would have been glad of its interference.

But one is apt to “ sin one’s mercies,” as the
Scotch say, and at the time we cursed that horse
instead of blessing it.

CHAPTER VII

George wonders — German love of order — “ The Band
of the Schwarzwald Blackbirds will perform at
seven ” — The china dog — Its superiority over all
other dogs — The German and the solar system —
A tidy country — The mountain valley as it ought
to be, according to the German idea — Hoio the
waters come down in Germany — The scandal of
Dresden — Harris gives an entertainment — It is
unappreciated — George and the aunt of him —
George, a cushion, and three damsels.

At a point between Berlin and Dresden, George,
who had, for the last quarter of an hour or so, been
looking very attentively out of the window, said :

" Why, in Germany, is it the custom to put the
letter-box up a tree ? Why do they not lix it to the
front door as we do ? I should hate having to climb
up a tree to get my letters. Besides, it is not
fair to the postman. In addition to being most
exhausting, the delivery of letters must to a heavy
man, on windy nights, be positively dangerous work.
If they will fix it to a tree, why not fix it lower
down, why alw’ays among the topmost branches ?
But, maybe, I am misjudging the countiy,” he
continued, a new idea occurring to him. “ Possibly
the Germans, who are in many matters ahead of us,
have perfected a pigeon post. Even so, I cannot
help thinking they would have been wiser to train

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

I2I

the birds, while they were about it, to deliver the
letters nearer the ground. Getting your letters out
of those boxes must be tricky work even to the
average middle-aged German.”

1 followed his gaze out of window. I said :

" Those are not letter-boxes, they are birds’ nests.
You must understand this nation. The German
loves birds, but he likes tidy birds. A bird left to
himself builds his nest just anywhere. It is not
a pretty object, according to the German notion of
prettiness. There is not a bit of paint on it anywhere,
not a plaster image all round, not even a flag.
The nest finished, the bird proceeds to live outside
it. He drops things on the grass ; twigs, ends of
worms, all sorts of things. He is indelicate. He
makes love, quarrels %vith his wife, and feeds the
children quite in public. The German householder
is shocked. He says to the bird :

” ‘ For many things I like you. I like to look at
you. I like to hear you sing. But I don’t like your
ways. Take this little box, and put your rubbish
inside where I can’t see it. Come out when you
want to sing ; but let your domestic arrangements
be confined to the interior. Keep to the box, and
don’t make the garden untidy.’ ”

In Germany one breathes in love of order ^vith
the air, in Germany the babies beat time with their
rattles, and the German bird has come to prefer
the box, and to regard with contempt the few
uncivilised outcasts who continue to build their
nests in trees and hedges. In course of time every
German bird, one is confident, will have his proper
place in a full chorus. This promiscuous and
desultory warbling of his must, one feels, be
irritating to the precise Gennan mind ; there is no

122

TKREE MEN ON THK CUftlMEL

method in it. The music-loving German will
organise him. Some stout bird with a specially
well-developed crop will be trained to conduct him,
and, instead of wasting himself in a wood at four
o’clock in the morning, he will, at the advertised
time, sing in a beer garden, accompanied by a
piano. Things are drifting that way.

Your German likes nature, but his idea of nature
is a glorified Welsh Harp. He takes greot interest
in his garden. He plants seven rose trees on the
north side and seven on the south, and if they do
not grow up all the same size and shape it worries
him so that he cannot sleep of nights. Ever}'^
flower he ties to a stick. This interferes with his
view of the flower, but he has the satisfaction of
knowing it is there, and that it is behaving itself.
The lake is lined with zinc, and once a week he
takes it up, carries it into the kitchen, and scours it.
In the geometrical centre of the grass plot, which is
sometimes as large as a tablecloth and is generally
railed round, he places a clnna dog. The Germans
are very fond of dogs, but as a rule they prefer
them of china. The china dog never digs holes in
the lawn to bury bones, and never scatters a flower-
bed to the winds with his hind legs. From the
German point of view, he is the ideal dog. He
stops wiiere you put him, and he is never where
you do not want him. You can have him perfect
in all points, according to the latest requirements of
the iiennel Club ; or you can indulge your own
fancy and have something unique. You are not, as
with other dogs, limited to breed. In china, you
can have a blue dog or a pink dog. For a little
extra, you can have a double-headed dog.

On a certain fixed date in the autumn the German

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

123

stakes liis flowers and bushes to the earth, and
covers them w'ith Chinese matting ; and on a
certain fixed date in the spring ho uncovers them,
and stands them up again. If it happens to be an
exceptionally fine autumn, or an exceptionally late
spring, so much the worse for the unfortunate
vegetable. No true German would allow his
arrangements to be interfered with by so unruly
a thing as the solar system. Unable to regulate
the weather, he ignores it.

Among trees, your German’s favourite is the
poplar. Other disorderly nations may sing the
charms of the rugged oak, the spreading chestnut,
or the waving elm. To the German all such, with
their wilful, untidy ways, are eyesores. The poplar
grows where it is planted, and how it is planted. It
has no improper rugged ideas of its own. It does
not want to wave or to spread itself. It just grows
straight and upright as a German tree should grow ;
and so gradually the German is rooting out all other
trees, and replacing them with poplars.

Your German likes the country, but he prefers it
as the lady thought she would the noble savage —
more dressed. He likes his walk through the wood
— to a restaurant. But the pathway must not be
too steep, it must have a brick gutter running down
one side of it to drain it, and every twenty yards or
so it must have its seat on which he can rest and
mop his brow ; for j^our German would no more
think of sitting on the grass than would an English
bishop dream of rolling down One Tree Hill. He
likes his view from the summit of the hill, but he
likes to find there a stone tablet telling him what
to look at, and a table and bench at which he can
sit to partake of the frugal beer and " belegte

124

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

Scmmel ” he has been carefvil to bring with him.
If, in addition, he can find a police notice posted
on a tree, forbidding him to do something or other,
that gives him an e.vtra sense of comfort and
security.

Your German is not averse even to wild scenery,
provided it be not too wild. But if he consider it
too savage, he sets to w(jrk to tame it. I remember,
in the neighbourhood of Dresden, discovering a
picturesque and narrow' valley leading dowm towards
the Elbe. The winding roadway ran beside a
mountain torrent, w'hich for a mile or so fretted
and foamed over rocks and boulders between wood-
covered banks. I folloAved it enchanted until,
turning a corner, I suddenly came across a gang
of eighty or a hundred workmen. They were busy
tidying up that valley, and making that stream
respectable. All the stones that were impeding the
course of the water they were carefullj' picking out
and carting away. The bank on either side they
were bricking up and cementing. The overhanging
trees and bushes, the tangled vines and creepers
they were rooting up and trimming clowm. A little
further I came upon the finished work — the
mountain valley as it ought to be, according to
German ideas. The water, now a broad, sluggish
stream, flowed over a level, gravelly bed, betwei'n
two walls, crowned with stone cf)ping. At every
hundred yards it gently descended down three
shallow wooden platforms. For a space on either
side the ground had been cleared, and at regular
intervals young poplars planted. Each sapling was
protected by a shield of w'ickerwork and bossed by
an iron rod. In the course of a couple of years it
is the hope of the local council to have “ finished ”

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

125

that valley throughout its entire length, and made
it fit for a tidy-minded lover of German nature to
walk in. There will be a seat every fifty yards,
a police notice every hundred, and a restaurant
every half-mile.

They are doing the same from the Memel to the
Rhiin^. They are just tidying up the country. I
remember well the Wchrlhal. It was once the most
romantic ravine to be found in the Black Forest.
The last time I walked down it some hundreds of
Italian workmen were encamped there hard at work,
training the wild little Wehr the way it should go,
bricking the banks for it here, blasting the rocks for
it tliere, making cement steps for it down which it
can travel soberly and without fuss.

For in Germany there is no nonsense talked about
untrammelled nature. In Germany nature has got
to behave herself, and not set a bad example to the
children. A Geinian poet, noticing waters coming
down as Southey describes, somewliat inexactly,
the waters coming down at Lodore, would be too
shocked to stop and write alliterative verse about
them. He would hurry away, and at once report
them to the police. Then their foaming and their
shrieking would be of short duration.

“ Now then, now then, what 's all this about ? ”
the voice of German authority would say severely
to the; waters. “ We can’t have this sort of thing,
you know. Come down ([uietly, can’t you ? Where
do you think you are ? ”

And the local German council would provide those
waters with /■:inc pq^os and wooden troughs, and a
corksciew staircase, and show them how' to come
down sensibly, in the German manner.

It is a tidy land is Germany.

126

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

We reached Dresden on the Wednesday evening,
and stayed there over the Sunday.

Taking one consideration with another, Dresden
perhaps, is the most attractive town in Germany ;
but it is a place to be lived in for a while rather
than visited Its museums and galleries, its palaces
and gardens, its beautiful and historically rich
environment, provide pleasure for a winter, but
bewilder for a week. It has not the gaiety of Paris
or Vienna, which quickly palls ; its charms are
more solidly German, and more lasting. It is the
Mecca of the musician. For five slrillings, in
Dresden, you can purchase a stall at the opera
house, together, unfortunately, with a strong dis-
inclination ever again to take the trouble of sitting
out a performance in any Ediglish, French, or
American opera house.

The chief scandal of Dresden still centres round
August the Strong, " the Man of Sin,” as Carlyle
always called him, who is popularly reputed to
have cursed Europe with over a thousand children.
Castles where he imprisoned this discarded mistress
or that — one of them, who persisted in her claim to
a better title, for forty years, it is said, poor lady !
The narrow rooms where she ate her heart out and
died are still showm. Chateaux, shameful for this
deed of infamy or that, lie scattered round the
neighbourhood like bones about a battlefield ; and
most of your guide’s stories are such as the " young
person ” educated in Germany had best not hear.
His life-sized portrait hangs in the fine Zwinger,
which he built as an arena for his wild beast fights
when the people grew tired of them in the market-
place ; a beetle-browed, frankly animal man, but
with the culture and taste that so often wait upon

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL I27

animalism. Modern Dresden undoubtedly owes
much to him.

But what the stranger in Dresden stares at most
is, perhaps, its electric trams. These huge vehicles
flash through the streets at from ten to twenty miles
an hour, taking curves and corners after the manner
of an Irish car driver. Everybody travels by them,
excepting only oflicers in uniform, who must not.
Ladies in evening dress, going to ball or opera,
porters with their baskets, sit side by side. They
are all-important in the streets, and everything and
everybody makes haste to get out of their way. If
you do not get out of tlieir way, and you still happen
to be alive when picked up, then on your recovery
you are lined lor having been in their way. This
teaches you to be wary of them.

One afternoon Harris took a “ bummel ” by
himself. In the evening, as we sat listening to the
band at the Belvedere, Harris said, d propos of
nothing in particular, “ These Germans have no
sense of humour.”

" What makes you think that ? ” I asked.

” Why, this afternoon,” he answered, “ I jumped
on one of those electric tramcars. I wanted to see
the town, so I stood outside on the little platform —
what do you call it ? ”

“ The Stehplatz,” I suggested.

” That ’s it,” said Harris. ” Well, you know the
way they shake you about, and how you have to
look out for the corners, and mind yourself when
they stop and when they start ? ”

I nodded,

" There were about half a dozen of us standing
there,” he continued, " and, of course, I am not
experienced. The thing started suddenly, and that

128

THREE MEN ON If IE BOiMMEL

jerked me backwards. I fell against a stout gentle-
man, just behind me. He could not have been
standing very firmly himself, and he, in his turn,
fell back against a boy who was carrying a trumpet
in a green baize case. Tliey never smiled, neither
the man nor the boy with the trumpet ; they just
stood there and looked sulky. I was going to say
I was sorry, but before I could get the words out
the tram eased up, for some reason or other, and
that, of course, shot me forward again, and I butted
into a white-haired old chap, who looked to me
like a professor. Well, he never smiled, never
moved a muscle.”

” Maybe, he was thinking of something else,” I
suggested.

” That could not have been the case with them
all,” replied Harris, “ and in the course of that
journey, 1 must have fallen against every one of
them at least three times. You see,” explained
Harris, ” they knew when the corners were coming,
and in which dii'ection to brace themselves. I,
as a stranger, was naturally at a disadvantage.
The way I rolled and staggered about that platform,
clutching wildly now at this man and now at that,
must have been really comic. I don’t say it
was high-class humour, but it would have amused
most people. I'hose f Germans seemed to see no
fun in it whatever — just seemed anxious, that was
all. There was one man, a little man, who stood
with his back against the brake ; I fell against
him five times, I counted them. You would have
expected the fifth time would have dragged a laugh
out of him, but it didn’t ; he merely looked tired.
They are a dull lot.'

George also had an adventure at Dresden. There

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

129

was a shop near the Allmarkt, in the window of
which were exhibited some cushions for sale. The
proper business of the shop was handling of glass
and china ; the cushions appeared to be in the
nature of an experiment. They were very beautiful
cushions, hand-embroidered on satin. We often
passed the shop, and every time George paused
and examined those cushions. He said he thought
his aunt would like one.

George has been very attentive to tins aunt of
his during the journey. He has written her cjuite a
long letter every day, and from every town we stop
at he sends her off a present. To my mind, he is
overdoing the business, and more than once I have
expostulated with him. His aunt will be meeting
other aunts, and talking to them ; the whole class
will become disorganised and unruly. As a nejdiew,
I object to the impossible standard that George is
setting up. But he will not listen.

Therefore it was that on the Saturday he left us
after lunch, saying he would go round to that shop
and get one of those cushions for his aunt. He
said he would not be long, and suggested our waiting
for him.

We waited for what seemed to me rather a long
time. When he rejoined us he was empty handed,
and looked worried. We asked him where his
cushion was. He said he hadn’t got a cushion, said
he had changed his mind, said he didn’t think his
aunt would care for a cushion. Evidently some-
thing was amiss. We tried to got at the bottom
of it, but he was not communicative. Indeed, his
answers after our twentieth question or thereabouts
became quite short.

In the evening, however, when he and I happened

130 THREE MEN ON THE BUAIMEL

to be alone, he broached the subject himself. He
said :

“ They are somewhat peculiar in some things,
these Germans.”

I said : " What has happened ? ”

" Well,” he answered, “ there was that cushion
I wanted.”

” For your aunt,” I remarked.

“ Why not ? ” he rctumed. He was nuffy in a
moment ; I never knew a man so touchy about an
aunt. ” Why shouldn't I send a cushion to my
aunt ? ”

"Don’t get e.Kcited,” 1 replied. "I am not
objecting ; I respect you for it.”

He recovered his temper, and went on :

" There were four in the window, if j'^ou remember,
all very much alike, and eacli one labelled in plain
figures twenty marks. I don’t pretend to speak
German fluently, but I can generally make myself
understood with a little effort, and gather the sense
of what is said to me, provided they don’t gabble.
I went into the shop. A young girl came up to me ;
she was a pretty, quiet little soul, one might almost
say, demure ; not at all the sort of girl from whom
you would have expected such a thing. I was never
more surprised in all my life.”

" Surprised about what ? ” I said.

George always assumes you know the end of the
story while he is telling you the beginning ; it is an
annoying method.

“ At what happened,” replied George ; " at what
I am telling you. She smiled and asked me what I
wanted. I understood that all right ; there could
have been no mistake about that. I put down a
twenty mark piece on the counter and said :

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

I3I

" ' Please give me a cushion.’

" She stared at me as if I had asked for a feather
bed. I thotight, maybe, she had not heard, so 1
repeated it louder. If I liad chucked her under the
chin she could not have looked more surprised or
indignant.

“ She said she thought I must be making a mistake.

" I did not want to begin a long conversation and
find mj'self stranded. I said there was no mistake.
I pointed to my twenty mark piece, and repeated
for the third lime that I wanted a cuslrion, ' a twenty
mark cushion.'

“ Another girl came up, an elder girl ; and the first
girl repeated to her what I had just said : she seemed
quite excited about it. The second girl did not
believe her — did not think I looked the sort of man
who would want a cushion. To make sure, she put
the question to me herself.

" ‘ Did you say you wanted a cushion ? ’ she
asked.

“ ‘ I have said it three times,' I answered. * I will
say it again — I want a cushion.'

" She said : ‘ Then you can't have one.’

" I was getting angry by this time. If I hadn’t
really wanted the thing I should have walked out of
the shop ; but there the cushions were in the window,
evidently for sale. I didn’t see why I couldn’t have
one.

“ I said : * I will have one ! ’ It is a simple
sentence. I said it with determination.

“ A third girl came up at this point, the three
representing, I fancy, the whole force of the shop.
She was a bright-eyed, saucy-looking little wench,
this last one. On any other occasion I might have
been pleased to see her ; now, her coming only

132

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

irritated me. I didn’t see the need of three girls
for this business.

“ The first two girls started explaining the thing
to tlie third girl, and before they were half-way
through the tliird girl began to giggle — she was the
sort of girl who would giggle at anything. That
done, they fell to chattering like Jenny Wrens, all
three together ; and between every half-dozen words
they looked across at me ; and the more they looked
at me the more the third girl giggled ; and before
they had finished they were all three giggling, the
little idiots ; you might have thought I was a clown,
giving a private performance.

“ When she was steady enough to move, the
third girl came up to me ; she was still giggling.
She said :

" ‘ If you get it, will you go ? ’

” I did not quite understand her at first, and she
repeated it.

“ ‘ This cushion. When you 've got it, will you
go — away — at once ? ’

“ I was only too anxious to go. I told her so.
But, I added I was not going without it. I had
made up my mind to have that cushion now if I
slopped in the shop all night for it.

" She rejoined the other two girls. I thought
they were going to get me the cushion and have
done with the business. Instead of that, the
strangest thing possible happened. I'he two other
girls got behind the first girl, all three still giggling.
Heaven knows what about, and pushed her towards
me. They pushed her close up to me, and then,
before I knew what was happening, she put her
hands on my shoulders, stood up on tiptoe, and
kissed me. After which, burying her face in her

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 133

apron, she ran off, followed by the second girl. The
third girl opened the door for me, and so evidently
expected me to go, that in my confusion I went,
leaving my twenty marks behind me. I don’t say I
minded the kiss, though I did not particularly want
it, while I did want the cushion. I don’t like to go
back to the shop. I cannot understand the thing
at all.”

I said : “ What did you ask for ? ”

He said : "A cxtshion.”

I said : “ That is what you wanted, I know. Wdiat
I mean is, what was the actual German word you
said.”

He replied : “A kuss.”

I said : ” You have nothing to complain of. It is
somewhat confusing. A ‘ kuss ’ sounds as if it ought
to be a cushion, but it is not ; it is a kiss, while a
‘ kissen ’ is a cushion. You muddled up the two
words — people have done it before. I don’t know
much about this sort of thing myself ; but you asked
for a twenty mark kiss, and from your description
of the girl some people might consider the price
reasonable. Anyhow, I should not tell Harris. If
I remember rightly, he also has an aunt.”

George agreed with me it would be better not.

CHAPTER VIII

Mf. and Miss Jones, of Manchester — The henefits of
cocoa — A hint to the Peace Society — The windoii>
as a mediceval argtoneni — The favourite Christian
recreation — The language of the guide — How to
repair the ravages of time — George tries a bottle —
The fate of the German beer drinker — Harris and
I resolve to do a good action — The usual sort of
statue — Harris and his friends — A pepperless
Paradise — Women and towns.

We were on our way to Prague, and were waiting in
the great hall of the Dresden Station until such
time as the powers-that-bc should permit us on to
the platform. George, who had wandered to the
bookstall, returned to us with a wild look in his
eyes. He said :

“ I 've seen it.”

I said, ” Seen what ? ”

He was too excited to answer intelligently. He
said :

" It 's here. It ’s coming this way, both of them.
If you wait, you ’ll see it for yourselves. I ’m not
joking : it ’s the real thing.”

As is usual about this period, some paragraphs,
more or less serious, had been appearing in the
papers concerning the sea-serpent, and I thought
for the moment he must be referring to this. A
moment’s reflection, however, told me that here, in

*34

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL I35

the middle of Europe, three hundred miles from
the coast, such a thing was impossible. Before
I could question him further, he seized me by the
arm.

'' Look ! he said ; '' now am I exaggerating ? ''

I turned my head and saw what, I suppose,
few living Englishmen have ever seen before — the
travelling Britisher according to the Continenta
idea, accompanied by his daughter. They were
coming towards us in the flesh and blood, unless
we were dreaming, alive and concrete — the English
'' Milor and the English '' Mees,'' as for generations
they have been portrayed in the Continental comic
press and upon the Continental stage. They were
perfect in every detail. The man was tall and thin,
with sandy hair, a huge nose, and long Dundreary
whiskers. Ov^er a pf^pper-and-salt suit he wore a
light overcoat, reaching almost to his heels. His
white helmet was ornamented with a green veil ;
a pair of opera-glasses hung at his side, and in his
lavender-gloved hand he carried an alpenstock a
little taller than himself. His daughter was long
and angular. Her dress I cannot describe : my
grandfather, poor gentleman, might have been able
to do so ; it would have been more familiar to him.
I can only say that it appeared to me unnecessarily
short, exhibiting a ])air of ankles — if I may be per-
mitted to refer to such points — that, from an artistic
point of view, called rather for concealment. Her
liat made me think of Airs. Homans ; but why
I cannot explain. She wore side-spring boots —

prunella,'' I believe, used to be the trade name —
mittens, and pincc-nez. She also cairied an alpen-
stock (there is not a mountain within a hundred
miles of Dresden) and a black bag^ strapped to

6 *

136 . TimEE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

her waist. Her teeth stuck out like a rabbit's,
and her figure was that ot a bolster on stilts.

Harris rushed for his camera, and of course
could not find it ; he never can when he wants it.
Whenever we see Harris scuttling up and down
like a lost dog, shouting, “ Where ’s my camera ?
What the dickens have I done with my camera ?
Don’t either of you remember where I put my
camera ? ” — then we know that for the first time
that day he has come across something worth
photographing. Later on, he remembered it was in
his bag ; that is where it would be on an occasion
like this.

They were not content with appearance ; they
acted the thing to the letter. They walked gaping
round them at every step. The gentleman had an
open Baedeker in his hand, and the lady carried a
phrase book. They talked French that nobody
could understand, and German that they could not
translate themselves ! The man poked at officials
with his alpenstock to attract their attention, and
the lady, her eye catching sight of an advertisement
of somebody’s cocoa, said “ Shocking ! ” and turned
the other way.

Really, there was some excuse for her. One
notices, even in England, the home of the pro-
prieties, that the lady who drinks cocoa appears,
according to the poster, to require very little else
in this world ; a yard or so of art muslin at the
most. On the Continent she dispenses, so far as
one can judge, with every other necessity of life.
Not only is cocoa food and drink to her, it should
be clothes also, according to the idea of the cocoa
manufacturer. But this by the way.

Of course, they immediately became the centre

three men on the BUMMEL . 137

of attraction. By being able to render them some
slight assistance, I gained the advantage of five
minutes’ conversation with them. They were very
affable. The gentleman told me his name was
Jones, and that he came from Manchester, but he
did not seem to know what part of Manchester,
or where Manchester was. I asked him where he
was going to, but he evidently did not know. He
said it depended. I asked him if he did not find
an alpenstock a clumsy thing to walk about with
througli a crowded town ; he admitted that occa-
sionally it did get in the way. I asked him if he
did not find a veil interfere with his view of things ;
he explained that you only wore it when the flies
became troublesome. I enquired of the lady if she
did not find the wind blow cold ; she said she had
noticed it, especially at the corners. I did not ask
these questions one after another as I have here
put them down ; I mixed them up with general
conversation, and we parted on good terms.

I have pondered much upon the apparition, and
have come to a definite opinion. A man I met later
at Frankfort, and to whom I described the pair,
said he had seen them himself in Paris, three weeks
after the termination of the Fashoda incident ;
while a traveller for some English steel works
whom we met in Strassburg remembered having
seen them in Berlin during the e.xcitement caused
by the Transvaal question. My conclusion is that
they were actors out of work, hired to do this thing
in the interest of international peace. The French
Foreign Office, wishful to allay the anger of the
Parisian n\ob clamouring for war with England,
secured tl is admirable couple and sent them round
the town. You cannot be amused at a thing, and

138 • THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

at the same time want to kill it. The French
nation saw the Englisli citizen and citizeness — no
caricature, but tlie living reality — and their indig-
nation exploded in laughter. The success of the
stratagem prompted them later on to offer their
services to the (ieinian Government, with the
beneficial results that we all know.

Our own Government might learn the lesson.
It might be as well to keep near Downing Street
a few small, fat Frenchmen, to be sent round the
country when occasion called for it, shrugging their
shoulders and eating frog sandwiches ; or a file of
untidy, lank-haired Germans might be retained,
to walk about, smoking long pipes, saying “ So."
The public would laugli and exclaim, " War with
such ? It would be too absurd.” Failing the
Government, I recommend the scheme to the
Peace Society.

Our visit to Pi ague we were compidled to lengthen
somewhat. Prague is one of the most interesting
towns in Europe. Its stones are saturated with
history and romance ; its every suburb must have
been a battlefield. It is the town that conceived
the Reformation and hatcii('d the Thirty Years’
War. But half Prague’s troubles, one imagines,
might have been saved to it, had it pos.sessed
windows less large and temptingly convenient.
The first of these mighty catastrophes it set rolling
by throwing the seven Catholic councillors from
the windows of its Kathliaus on to the pikes of
the Hussites below. Later, it gave the signal
for the second by again throwing the Imperial
councillors from the windows of tlie old Burg in
the Hradschin -Prague’s second ‘‘ Fenstersturz.’’
SVioe, other fateful questions have been decided

THREE MEN ON IHE BUMMEL 139

in Pnif^ne ; one assumes from their having been
concluded without violence that such must have
been discussed in cellars. The window, as an
argument, one feels, would always have proved too
strong a temptation to any true-born Pragiier.

In the Tcynkirche stands the worm-eaten pulpit
from which preached John Huss. One may hear
from the selfsame desk to-day the voice of a Papist
priest, while in far-off Constance a rude block of
stone, half ivy hidden, marks the spot where Huss
and Jerome (lied burning at the stake. History is
fond of her little ironies. In this same Tcynkirche
lies buried Tycho Prahe, the astronomer, who made
the common mistake of thinking the earth, with
its eleven hundred creeds and one humanity, the
centre of the universe ; but who otherwise observed
the stars clearly.

Through Prague’s dirty, palace-bordered alleys
must have pressed often in hot haste blind Ziska
and open-minded Wallenstein — they have dubbed
him “ The Hero ” in Prague ; and the town is
honestly proud of luiving owaied him for citizen.
In his gloomy palace in the Waldstein-Platz they
show' as a sacred spot the cabinet where he prayed,
and seem to have persuaded themselves he really
had a soul. Its steep, winding ways must have
been choked a dozen times, now by Sigismund's
flying legions, followed by fierce-killing Tarborites,
ajid now by pale Protestants pursued by the victo-
rious Catholics of Maximilian. Now Saxons, now
Bavarians, and now French ; now the saints of
Gustavus Adolphus, and now the steel fighting
machines of Frederick the Great, have thundered
at its gates and fought upon its bridges.

The Jews have always been an important feature

140 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

of Prague. Occasionally they have assisted the
Christians in their favourite occupation of slaughter-
ing one another, and the great flag suspended from
the vaulting of the Altneuschule testifies tc the
courage with which they helped Catholic Ferdinand
to resist the Protestant Swedes. The Prague
Ghetto was one of the first to be established in
Europe, and in the tiny sjmagogue, still standing,
the Jew of Prague has worshipped for eight hundred
years, his women folk devoutly listening, without,
at the ear holes provided for them in the massive
walls. A Jewish cemetery adjacent, " Bethchajim,
or the House of Life,” seems as though it were
bursting with its dead. Within its narrow acre it
was the law of centuries that here or nowhere must
the bones of Israel rest. So the worn and broken
tombstones lie piled in close confusion, as though
tossed and tumbled by the struggling host beneath.

The Ghetto walls have long been levelled, but
the living Jews of Prague still cling to their foetid
lanes, though these are being rapidly replaced
by fine new streets that promise to eventually
transform this quarter into the handsomest part
of the town.

At Dresden they advised us not to talk German
in Prague. For years racial animosity between the
German minority and the Czech majority has raged
throughout Bohemia, and to be mistaken for a
German in certain streets of Prague is inconvenient
to a man whose staying powers in a race are not
what once they were. However, we did talk
German in certain streets in Prague ; it was a case
of talking German or nothing. The Czech dialect
is said to be of great antiquity and of highly
scientific cultivation. Its alphabet contains forty-two

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

14I

letters, suggestive to a stranger of Chinese. It
is not a language to be picked up in a hurry, We
decided that on the whole there would be less risk
to our constitution in keeping to German, and
as a matter of fact no harm came to us. The
explanation I can only surmise. The Praguer is an
exceedingly acute person ; some subtle falsity of
accent, some slight grammatical inaccuracy, may
have crept into our German, revealing to him the
fact that, ill spite of all appearances to the contrary,
we were no true-born Deutscher. I do not assert
this ; I put it forward as a possibility.

To avoid unnecessary danger, however, we did
our sight-seeing with the aid of a guide. No guide
I have ever come across is perfect. This one had
two distinct failings. His Ivnglish was decidedly
weak. Indeed, it was not English at all. I do not
know what you would call it. It was not altogether
his fault ; he had learnt English from a Scotch lady.
I understand Scotch fairly well — to keep abreast of
modern Juiglish literature this is necessary, — but to
understand broad Scotch talked with a Sclavonic
accent, occasionally relieved by German modifica-
tions, taxes the intelligence. For the first hour it
was difficult to rid one’s self of the conviction that
the man was choking. Every moment we expected
him to die on our hands. In the course of the
morning we grew accustomed to him, and rid
ourselves of the instinct to throw him on his back
every time he opened his mouth, and tear his clothes
from him. Later, we came to understand a part
of what he said, and this led to the discovery of hia
second failing.

It would seem he had lately invented a hair-
restorer, which he had persuaded a local chemist to

142

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

take up and advertise. Half his time he had been
pointing out to us, not the beauties of Prague
but the benefits likely to accrue to the human
race from the use of this concoction ; and the
conventional agreement with which, under the im-
pression he was wa.xing eloquent concerning views
and architecture, we had met his enthusiasm he
had attributed to sympathetic interest in this
wretched wash of his.

The result was that now there was no keeping
him away from the subject. Ruined palaces and
crumbling churches he dismissed with curt reference
as mere frivolities, encouraging a morbid taste for
the decadent. His duty, as he saw it, was not to
lead us to dwell upon the ravages of time, but
rather to direct our attention to the means of
repairing them. What had we to do with broken-
headed heroes, or bald-headed saints ? Our interest
should be surely in the living world ; in the maidens
with their flowing tresses, or the flowing tresses
they might have, by judicious use of “ Kophkeo,”
in the young men with their fierce moustaches —as
pictured on the label.

Unconsciously, in his own mind, he had divided
the world into two sections. The Past (" Before
Use”), a sickl}'’, disagreeable-looking, uninteresting
world. The Future (" After Use ”) a fat, jolly,
God-bless-everybody sort of world ; and this unfitted
him as a guide to scenes of medijcval history.

He sent us each a bottle of the stuff to our hotel.
It appeared that in the early part of our converse
with him we had, unwittingly, clamoured ior it,
Personally, I can neither praise it nor condemn it.
A long series of disappointments has disheartened
me ; added to which a permanent atmosphere of

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

143

paraffin, however faint, is apt to cause remark,
especially in the case of a married man. Now, I
never try even the sample.

I gave my bottle to George. lie asked for it to
send to a man he knew in Leeds. I learnt later
that Harris had given him liis bottle also, to send to
the same man.

A suggestion of onions has clung to this tour
since we left Prague. George has noticed it himself.
He attributes iit to the prevalence of garlic in
European cooking.

It was in Prague that Harris and I did a kind
and friendly thing to George. We had noticed for
some time past that George was getting too fond of
Pilsener beer. This German beer is an insidious
drink, especially in hot weather ; but it does not
do to imbibe too freely of it. It does not get into
your head, but alter a time it spoils your waist. I
always say to myself on entering Germany :

" Now, 1 will drink no German beer. The white
wine of the country, with a little soda-Avater ;
perhai:)S occasionally a glass of Enis or potash. But
beer, never — or, at all events, hardly ever.”

It is a good and useful resolution, which I recom-
mend to all tra\’ellcis. I only wish I could keep to
it myself. George, although i urged him, refused to
bind himself by any such hard and fast limit. He
said that in moderation German beer w’as good.

” One glass in the morning,” said George, ” one
in the evening, or even two. That wall do no harm
to anyone.”

Maybe he was right. It w’as his half-dozen glasses
that troubled Harris and myself.

” We ought to do something to stop it,” said
Harris ; it is becoming serious.”

144 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

«

" It ’s hereditary, so he has explained to me,” I
answered. "It seems his family have always been
thirsty.”

" There is Apollinaris water,” replied Harris,
" which, I believe, with a little lemon squeezed into
it, is practically harmless. What I am thinking
about is his figure. He will lose all his natural
elegance.”

We talked the matter over, and. Providence
aiding us, we fixed upon a plan. For the orna-
mentation of the town a new statue had just been
cast. I forget of whom it was a statue. I only
remember that in the essentials it was the usual
sort of street statue, representing the usual sort of
gentleman, with the usual stiff neck, riding the
usual sort of horse — the horse that always walks
on its hind legs, keeping its front paws for beating
time. But in detail it possessed individuality.
Instead of the usual sword or baton, the man was
holding, stretched out in his hand, his own plumed
hat ; and the horse, instead of the usual waterfall
for a tail, possessed a somewhat attenuated append-
age that somehow appeared out of keeping with his
ostentatious behaviour. One felt that a horse with
a tail like that would not have pranced so much.

It stood in a small square not far from the furtlier
end of the Karlsbriicke, but it stood there only
temporarily. Before deciding finally where to fix it,
the town authorities had resolved, very sensibly, to
judge by practical test where it would look best.
Accordingly, they had made three rough copies of
the statue — mere wooden profiles, things that would
not bear looking at closely, but which, viewed from
a little distance, produced all the effect that wa?
necessary. One of these they had set up at th(

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

145

approach to the Franz- Josefsbriicke, a second stood
in the open space behind the theatre, and the third
in the centre of the Wenzelsplatz.

" If George is not in the secret of this thing..”
said Harris — we were walking by ourselves for an
hour, he having remained behind in the hotel to
write a letter to his aunt, — “ if he has not observed
these statues, then by their aid we will make a
better and a thinner man of him, and that this
very evening.”

So during dinner we sounded him, judiciously ;
and finding him ignorant of the matter, we took
him out, and led him by side-streets to the place
where stood the real statue. George was for looking
at it and passing on, as is his way with statues, but
we insisted on his pulling up and viewing the thing
conscientiously. We walked him round that statue
four times, and showed it to him from every possible
point of view. I think, on the whole, we rather
bored him with the thing, but our object was to
impress it upon him. We told him the history of
the man who rode upon the horse, the name of
the artist who had made the statue, how much it
weighed, how much it measured. We worked that
statue into his system. By the time we had done
with him he knew more about that statue, for the
time being, than he knew about anything else. We
soaked him in that statue, and only let him go at
last on the condition that he would come again with
us in the morning, when we could all see it better,
and for such purpose we saw to it that he made a
note in his pocket-book of the place where the
statue stood.

Then we accompanied him to his favourite beer
hall, and sat beside him, telling him anecdotes of

146 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

men who, unaccustomed to German beer, and
drinking too much of it, had gone mad and
developed homicidal mania ; of men who had died
young through drinking German beer ; of lovers
that German beer had been the means of parting
for ever from beautiful girls.

At ten o’clock we started to walk back to the
hotel. It was a stormy-looking night, with heavy
clouds drifting over a light moon. Harris said :

" We won’t go back the same way we came ;
we ’ll walk back by the river. It is lovely in the
moonlight.”

Harris told a sad liistory, as we walked, about a
man he once knew, who is now in a home for
harmless imbeciles. He said he recalled the story
because it was on just such another night as this
that he was walking with that man the very last
time he ever saw the poor fellow. They were
strolling down the Thames End:)ankment, Harris
said, and the man frightened him then by persisting
that he saw the statue of the Duke of Wellington
at the corner of Westminster Bridge, when, as
everybody know-s, it stands in Piccadilly.

It was at this exact instant that we came in
sight of tlie first of these w^ooden copies. It
occupied the centre of a small, railed-in square a
little above us on the opposite side of the way.
George suddenly stood still and leant against the
wall of the quay.

“ What ’s the matter ? ” 1 said ; ” feeling giddy ? ”

He said • “ I do, a little. Let ’s rest here a
moment.”

He stood there with his eyes glued to the thing.
He said, speaking huskily :

‘‘ Talking of statues, what always strikes me

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 147

»

is how very much one statue is like anothei
statue.”

Harris said : “ I cannot agree with you there —
pictures, it you like. Some pictures are very like
other pictures, but with a statue there is always
something distinctive. Take that statue we saw
early in the evening,” continued Harris, ” before
we went into the concert hall. It represented a
man sitting on a horse. In Prague you will see
other statues of men on horses, but nothing at all
like that one.”

'' Yes they are,” said George ; ” they are all
alike. It ’s always the same horse, and it ’s always
the same man. They are all exactly alike. It 's
idiotic nonsense to say they are not.”

He appeared to be angry with Harris.

" What makes you think so ? ” I asked.

" What makes me think so ? ” retorted George,
now turning upon me. “ Why, look at that damned
thing over there ! ”

I said ; ” What damned thing ? ”

" Why, that thing,” said George ; “ look at it J
There is the same horse with half a tail, standing
on its hind legs ; the same man without his hat ;
the same ”

Harris said : “You are talking now about the
statue we saw in the Ringplatz.”

‘‘ No, I 'm not,” replied George ; “ I ’m talking
about the statue over there.”

” What statue ? ” said Harris.

George looked at Harris ; but Harris is a man
who might, with care, have been a fair amateiir
actor. His face merely expressed friendly sorrow,
mingled with alarm. Next, George turned his gaze
on me. I endeavoured, so far as lay with me, to

148 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

(

copy Harris’s expression, adding to it on my own
account a touch of reproof.

“ Will you have a cab ? ” I said as kindly as I
could to George. “ I '11 run and get one.”

” What the devil do I want with a cab ? ” he
answered, ungraciously. ” Can’t you fellows under-
stand a joke ? It ’s like being out with a couple of
confounded old women,” saying w'hich, he started
off across the bridge, leaving us to follow.

" I am so glad that was only a joke of yours,”
said Harris, on our overtaking him. " I knew a
case of softening of the brain that began ”

” Oh, you ’re a silly ass ! ” said George, cutting
him short ; ” you know everything.”

He was really most unpleasant in his manner.

We took him round by the riverside of the
theatre. We told him it was the shortest way,
and, as a matter of fact, it was. In the open space
behind the theatre stood the second of these wooden
apparitions. George looked at it, and again stood
still.

" What 's the matter ? ” said Harris, kindly.
" You are not ill, are you ? ”

” I don’t believe this is the shortest way,” said
George.

“ I assure you it is,” persisted Harris.

” Well, I ’m going the other,” said George ;
and he turned and went, we, as before, following
him.

Along the Ferdinand Strasse Harris and I talked
about private lunatic asylums, which, Harris said,
were not well managed in England. He said a
friend of his, a patient in a lunatic asylum

George said, interrupting : ” You appear to have
a large number of friends in lunatic asylums.”

THHEE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

X49

He said it in a most insulting tone, as though to
imply that that is where one would look for the
majority of Harris’s friends. But Harris did not
get angry ; he merely replied, quite mildly :

" Well, it really is extraordinary, when one comes
to think of it, how many of them have gone that way
sooner or later. I get quite nervous sometimes, now.”

At the corner of the Wenzelsplatz, Harris, who
was a few steps ahead of us, paused.

” It 's a fine street, isn’t it ? ” he said, sticking
his hands in his pockets, and gazing up at it
admiringly.

George and I followed suit. Two hundred yards
away from us, in its very centre, was the third of
these ghostly statues. I think it was the best of
the three — the most like, the most deceptive. It
stood boldly outlined against the wild sky : the
horse on its hind legs, with its curiously attenuated
tail ; the man bareheaded, pointing with his plumed
hat to the now entirely visible moon.

” I think, if you don’t mind,” said George — he
spoke with almost a pathetic ring in his voice, his
aggressiveness had completely fallen from him, —
” that 1 will have that cab, if there ’s one handy.”

” I thought you were looking queer,” said Harris,
kindly. ” It ’s your head, isn’t it ? ”

" Perhaps it is,” answered George.

” I have noticed it coming on,” said Harris ; " but
I didn’t like to say anything to you. You fancy you
see things, don’t you ? ”

” No, no ; it isn’t that,” replied George, rather
quickly. " I don’t know what it is.”

” I do,” said Harris, solemnly, " and I ’ll tell you
It ’s this German beer that you are drinking,
have known a case where a man " "

150

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMKL

“ Don’t tell me about him just now,” said George.
” I dare say it ’s true, but somehow I don’t feel I
want to hear about him.”

" You are not used to it,” said Harris.

" I shall give it up from to-night,” said George.
” I think you must be right ; it doesn’t seem to
agree with me.”

We took him home, and saw him to bed. He
was very gentle and quite grateful.

One evening later on, after a long day’s ride,
followed by a most satisfactory dinner, we started
him on a big cigar, and, removing tilings from his
reach, told him of this stratagem that for his good
we had planned.

" How many copies of that statue did you say
we saw ? ” asked George, after we had finished.

“ Three,” replied Harris.

” Only three } ” said George. ” Are you sure ? ”

“ Positive,” replied Harris. ” Why ?"”

” Oh, nothing ! ” answered George.

But I don’t tliink he quite believed Harris.

From Prague we travelled to Nuremberg, through
Carlsbad. Good Germans, when they die, go, they
iay, to Carlsbad, as good Americans to Paris. This
I doubt, seeing that it is a small place witli no
convenience for a crowd. In Carlsbad, you rise at
five, the fashionable hour for promenade, when the
band plays under the Colonnade, and the Sprudel is
filled will! a packed throng over a mile long, being
from six to eight in the morning. Here you may
hear more languages spoken than the Tower of
Babel could have echoed. Polish Jews and Rmssian
[irinces, Cnn ese mandarins and Turkish pashas,
Norwegians li oking as if they bad stepjxal out of
Ibsen’s plays, women from the Boulevards, Spanish

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 15I

grandees and English countesses, mountaineers
from Montenegro and niilliouaires from Chicago,
you will find every dozen yards. Every luxury in
the world Carlsbad proA'ides for its visitors, with the
one exception of pepper. That you cannot get
within five miles of the town for money ; what you
can get there for love is not worth taking away.
Pc])per. to the liver brigade that forms four-fifths
of Carlsbad’s customers, is poison ; and, prevention
being better than cure, it is carefully kept out of
the neighbourhood. “ Pepper parties ” are formed
in Carlsbad to journey to some place without the
boundary, and there indulge in pepper orgies.

Nuremberg, it one expects a town of mediaeval
appearance, disappoints. Quaint comers, picturesque
glimpses, there are in plenty ; but everywhere they
are surrounded and intruded upon by the modern,
and even what is ancient is not nearly so ancient as
one thought it was. After all, a town, like a woman,
is only as old as it looks ; and Nuremberg is still a
^comfortable-looking dame, its age somewhat difficult
to conceive under its fresh paint and stucco in
the blaze of the gas and the electric light. Still,
looking closely, you may see its wrinkled walls and
grey towers.

CHAPTER IX

Harris breaks the lan' -Tlie helpful viau : The dangers
that beset him — George sets forth upon a career of
crime — Those to ichom Germany uould come as a
boo7i and a blessing — The English Sinner : His
disappointments — The German Sumer : His excep-
tional advantages — What yon may not do with your
bed — An inexpensive vice — The German dog : His
simple goodness — The mishehavionr of the beetle —
A people that go the zoay they ought to go — The
German small boy: His love of legality -~Hoiv
to go astray with a pera^nbiUator — The German
student : His chastened wilf ulness.

All three of ns, by some means or another, managed,
between Nuremberg and the Black Forest, to get
into trouble.

Harris led off at Stuttgart by insulting an official.
vStuttgart is a charming town, clean and bright, a
smaller Dresden. It has the additional attraction
of containing little that one need to go out of one's
way to see : a medium-sized j)irture galleiy, a small
museum of antiquities, and half a palace, and you
are through with the entire thing and can enjoy
yourself. Harris did not know it was an c)fficial he
was insulting. He took it for a fireman (it looked
liked a fireman), and he called it a dummer
Esel."

In Germany you ore not permitted to call an
official a silly ass," but undoubtedly this particular

152

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 153

man was one. What had happened was this :
Harris in the Stadgarten, anxious to get out, and
seeing a gate open before him, had stepped over
a wire into the street. Harris maintains he never
saw it, but undoubtedly there was hanging to the
wire a notice, “ Durchgang Verboten ! ” The man,
who was standing near the gate, stopped Harris,
and pointed out to him this notice. Harris thanked
him, and passed on. The man came after him,
and explained that treatment of the matter in
such off-hand way could not be allowed ; what was
necessary to put the business right was that Harris
should step back over the wire into the garden.
Harris pointed out to the man that the notice said
“ going tlu'ough forbidden,” and that, therefore,
by re-entering the garden that way he would be
infringing the law a second time. The man saw
this for liimself, and suggested that to get over the
difficulty Harris should go back into tlie garden by
the proper entrance, which was round the coiner,
and afterwards immediately come out again by the
same gate. Then it was that Harris called the man
a silly ass. That delayed us a day, and cost Harris
forty marks.

I followed suit at Carlsruhe, by stealing a bicycle.
I did not mean to steal the liicycle ; I was merely
trying to be useful. The train was on the point
of starting when I noticed, as I thought, Harris’s
bicycle still in the goods van. No one was about
to help me. I jumped into the van and hauled
it out, only just in time. Wheeling it down the
platform in triumph, I came across Harris’s bicycle,
standing against a wall behind some milk-cans.
The bicycle I had secured was not Harris’s, but
some other man’s.

154 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

It was an awkward situation In England, I
should have gone to the stationmaster and explained
my mistake. But in Germany they are not content
with your explaining a little matter of this sort to
one man : they take you round and get you to
explain it to about half a dozen ; and if any one
of the half dozen happens not to be haiidy, or not
to have time just then to listen to you, they have
a habit of leaving you over for the night to finish
your explanation the next morning. I thought
I would just put the thing out of sight, and then,
without making any fuss or show, take a short walk.
I found a wood shed, which seemed just the very
place, and was wheeling the bicycle into it when,
unfortunately, a red-hatted railway official, with the
airs of a retired field-marshal, caught sight of me
and came up. He said :

" What are you doing with that bicycle ? ”

I said : “ I am going to put it in this wood shed
out of the way.” I tried to convey by my tone
that I was performing a kind and thoughtful action,
for which the railwa}^ officials ought to thank me ;
but he was unresponsive.

" Is it your bicycle ? ” he said.

" Well, not exactly,” I replied.

” Whose is it ? ” he asked, quite sharply.

” I can’t tell you,” I answered. " I don’t know
whose bicycle it is.”

" Where did you get it from ? ” was his next
question. There was a suspiciousness about his
tone that was almost insulting.

” I got it,” I answered, with as much calm dignity
as at the moment 1 could assume, '* out of the train.
The fact is,” I continued, frankly, " I have made a
mistake.”

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL ^ I55

He did not allow me time to finish. He merely
said he thought so too, and blew a whistle.

Recollection of the subsequent proceedings is not,
so far as I am concerned, amusing. By a miracle
of good luck — they say Providence watches over
certain of us — the incident happened in Carlsruhe,
where I possess a German friend, an official of some
importance. Upon what would have been my fate
had the station not been at Carlsruhe, or had my
friend been from home, I do not care to dwell ; as
it was I got off, as the saying is, by the skin of my
teeth. I should like to add that I left Carlsruhe
without a stain upon my character, but that would
not be the truth. My going scot free is regarded
in police circles there to this day as a grave
miscarriage of justice.

But all lesser sin sinks into insignificance beside
the lawlessness of George. The bicycle incident
had thrown us all into confusion, with the result
that we lost George altogether. It transpired sub-
sequently that he was waiting for us outside the
police court ; but this at the time we did not know.
We thought, maybe, he had gone on to Baden by
himself ; and anxious to get away from Carlsruhe,
and not, perhaps, thinking out things too clearly,
we jumped into the next train that came up and
proceeded thither. When George, tired of waiting,
returned to the station, he found us gone and he
found his luggage gone. Harris had his ticket ;
I was acting as banker to the party, so that he had
in his pocket only some small change. Excusing
himself upon these grounds, he thereupon commenced
deliberately a career of crime that, reading it later,
as set forth baldly in the official summons, made
the hair of Harris and myself almost to stand on end.

156 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

German travelling, it may be explained, is some-
what complicated. You buy a ticket at the station
you start from for the place you want to go to. You
might think this would enable you to get there,
but it docs not. When your train comes up, you
attempt to swarm into it ; but the guard mag-
nificently waves you away. Where are your
credentials ? You show him your ticket. He
explains to you that by itself that is of no service
whatever ; you have only taken the first step
towards travelling ; you must go back to the
booking-ofiicc and get in addition what is called
a " schnellzng ticket.” With this you return,
thinking your troubles over. You are allowed
to get in, so far so good. But you must not
sit down anywhere, and you must not stand still,
and you must not wander about. You must
take another ticket, this time what is called a
“ platz ticket,” which entitles you to a place for a
certain distance.

W'hat a man could do who persisted in taking
nothing but the one ticket, I have often wondered.
Would he be entitled to run behind the train on the
six-foot way ? Or could he stick a label on himself
and get into the goods van ? Again, what could be
done with the man who, having taken his schnellzug
ticket, obstinately refused, or had not the money to
take a platz ticket : would they let him lie in the
umbrella rack, or allow him to hang himself out of
the window ?

To return to George, he had just sufficieirt money
to take a third-class slow train ticket to Baden, and
that was all. To avoid the inquisitiveness of the
guard, he waited till the train was moving, and
then jumped in.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

157

That was his first sin ;

(«) Entering a train in motion ;

\b) After being warned not to do so by an
official.

Second sin :

(a) Travelling in train of superior class to that
for which ticket was held.

{b) Refusing to pay difference when demanded
by an official. (George says he did not
“ refuse ” ; he simply told the man he
had not got it.)

Third sin :

(rt) Travelling in carriage of superior class to
that for which ticket was held.
ib) Refusing to jiay diffennice when demanded
by an official. (Again George disputes
the accuracy of the report. He turned
his pockets out, and offered the man all
he had, which was about eightpence in
German money. He offered to go into a
third class, but there was no third class.
He offered to go into the goods van, but
they would not hear of it.)

Fourth sin :

{a) Occupying seat, and not paying for same.

{b) Loitering about corridor. (As they would
not let him sit dow'ir without paying, and
as he could not pay, it w'as difficult to see
what else he could do.)

But explanations are held as no excuse in Germany;
and his journey from Carlsruhe to Baden was one
of the most expensive perhaps on record.

Reflecting upon the ease and frequency with
which one gets into trouble here in Germany, one
is led to the conclusion that this country would

158 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

come as a boon and a blessing to the average young
Englishman. To the medical student, to the eater
of dinners at the Temple, to the subaltern on leave,
life in London is a wearisome proceeding. The
healthy Briton takes his pleasure lawlessly, or it
is no pleasure to him. Nothing that he may do
affords to him any genuine satisfaction. To be in
trouble of some sort is his only idea of bliss. Now,
England affords him small opportunity in this
respect ; to get himself into a scrape requires a
good deal of persistence on the part of the young
Englishman.

I spoke on this subject one day with our senior
churchwarden. It was the morning of the loth of
November, and we were both of us glancing, some-
what anxiously, through the police reports. The
usual batch of young men had been summoned for
creating the usual disturbance the night before at
the Criterion. My friend the churchwarden has
boys of his own, and a nephew of mine, upon
whom I am keeping a fatherly eye, is by a fond
mother supposed to be in London for the sole
purpose of studying engineering. No names we
knew happened, by fortunate chance, to be in the
list of those detained in custody, and, relieved, we
fell to moralising upon the folly and depravity of
youth,

" It b very remarkable,” said my friend the
churchwarden, *' how the Criterion retains its
position in this respect. It was just so when I
was young ; the evening always wound up with a
row at the Criterion,”

" So meaningless,” I remarked.

” So monotonous,” he replied, “ You have no
idea,” he continued, a dreamy expression stealing

THREE men on THE BUMMEL

159

over his furrowed face, “ how unutterably tired one
can become of the walk from Piccadilly Circus to
the Vine Street Police Court. Yet, what else was
there for us to do ? Simply nothing. Sometimes
we would put out a street lamp, and a man would
come round and light it again. If one insulted a
policeman, he simply took no notice. He did not
even know he was being insulted ; or, if he did, he
seemed not to care. You could fight a Covent
Garden porter, if you fancied yourself at that sort
of thing. Generally speaking, the porter got the
best of it ; and when he did it cost you five
shillings, and when he did not the price was half
a sovereign. I could never see much excitement
in that particular sport. I tried driving a hansom
cab once. That has always been regarded as the
acme of modem Tom and Jerryism. I stole it
late one night from outside a public-house in Dean
Street, and the first thing that happened to me was
that I was hailed in Golden Square by an old lady
surrounded by three children, two of them crying
and the third one half asleep. Before I could get
away she had shot the brats into the cab, taken
my number, paid me, so she said, a shilling over
the legal fare, and directed me to an address a little
beyond what she called North Kensington. As a
matter of fact, the place turned out to be the other
side of Willesden. The horse was tired, and the
journey took us well over two hours. It was the
slowest lark I ever remember being concerned in.
I tried one or twice to persuade the children to
let me take them back to the old lady : but every
time I opened the trap-door to speak to them the
youngest one, a boy, started screaming ; and when
I offered other drivers to transfer the job to them.

ItO THREE MEN ON THE BUMMET.

most of them replied in the words of a song populai
about that period : ‘ Oh, George, don’t you think
you ’re going just a bit too far ? ’ One man offered
to take home to my wife any last message I might
be thinking of, while another promised to organise
a party to come and dig me out in the spring.
When i mounted the dickey I had imagined myself
driving a peppery old colonel to some lonesome and
cabless region, half a dozen miles from where he
wanted to go, and there leaving him upon the
kerbstone to swear. About that there might have
been good sport or there might not, accoi'ding to
circumstances and the colonel. The idea of a trip
to an outlying suburb in charge of a nursery full
of helpless infants had never occurred to me. No,
London,” concluded my friend the churchwarden
with a sigh, ” affords but limited o- porlunity to
the lover of the illegal.”

Now% in Germany, on the other hand, trouble is
to be had for the asking. There are many things
in Gerniany that 3 011 must not do that are quite
easy to do. To anv young h'uglislunan 3'earning
to get himself into a scrape, and finding himsc'lf
hampered in his own country, I would advise a
single ticket to Germany ; a return, lasting as it
does only a month, might prove a wnste.

In the Police (iuide of the Fatheiland he will
find set forth a list of the things the doing of
which will bring to him interest and exciteur.- nt.
In Germany you must not hang your bed out ol
window. He might begin with that. waving his
bed out of window he could get into trouble before
he had his bieakfast. At home he might hang
himself out of window, and nobody would mind
mtxch, provided he did not ob./.;Tct anybody’s

TIlRKri: MEN ON THE BUMMEL t6i

ancient lights or break away and injure any passer
underneath.

In (iermany you must not wear fancy dress in the
streets. A Highlander of my acquaintance who came
to pass the winter in Dresden spent the first few
days of his residence there in arguing this question
with the Saxon Government. They asked him what
he was doing in those clothes. He was not an
amiable man. He answered, he was wearing them.
They asked him why he was wearing them. He
rejdied, to keep himself warm. They told him
frankly that they did not believe him, and sent
h.im back to his lodgings in a closed landau. The
personal tcslimony of the English Mini.stcr was
necessary to assure the authorities that the Highland
garb was the customary dress of many respectable,
law-abiding British subjects. They accepted the
statement, as diplomatically bound, but retain their
private opinion to this day. The English tourist
they liave grown accustomed to ; but a Leicestershire
gentleman, invited to hunt with some German
orfic('rs, on appearing outside his hotel, was promptly
marched off, liorse and all, to explain his frivolity
at the police court.

Another thing you mu.st not do in the streets of
Ge rman towns is to feed horses, mules, or donkeys,
whetluu' your (■'.vn or those belonging to other
people. If a ])assion seizes you to feed somebody
else’s horse, you must make an appointment with
the animal, and the meal must take place in some
properly authorisi-.l jilacc. You must not break
glass or china in the street, nor, in fact, in any
public resort whatever ; and if you do, jou must
pick up all th,‘ })i’'ces. Wliat you arc to do with
the j'iccy. \v;;cn 3a.;! have g.ithered them together

i 62

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

I cannot say. The only thing I know for certain is
that you are not permitted to throw them anywhere,
to leave them anywhere, or apparently to part with
them in any way whatever. Presumably, you are
expected to carry them about with you until you
die, and then be buried with them ; or, maybe, you
are allowed to swallow them.

In German streets you must not shoot with a
crossbow. The German law-maker does not content
himself with the misdeeds of the average man —

You must not shoot tvith a cyosshoif.

the crime one feels one wants to do, but must not :
he worries himself imagining all the things a
wandering maniac might do. In Germany there
is no law against a man standing on his head in
the middle of the road ; the idea has not occurred
to them. One of tliese days a German statesman,
visiting a circus and seeing acrobats, will reflect
upon this omission. Then he will straightway sot
to work and frame a clause forbidding people from
standing on their heads in the middle of the road,
and fixing a fine. This is the charm of German

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 163

law : misdemeanour in Germany has its fixed price.
You are not kept awake all night, as in England,
wondering whether you will get off with a caution,
be fined forty shillings, or, catching the magistrate
in an unhappy moment for yourself, get seven days.
You know exactly what your fun is going to cost
you. You can spread out your money on the
table, open your Police Guide, and plan out your
holiday to a fifty pfennig piece. For a really
cheap evening, I would recommend walking on the
wrong side of the pavement after being cautioned
not to do so. I calculate that by choosing
your district and keeping to the quiet side streets
you could walk for a whole evening on the wrong
side of the pavement at a cost of little over three
marks.

In German towns you must not ramble about
after dark " in droves.” I am not quite sure how
many constitute a “ drove,” and no official to whom
I have spoken on this subject has felt himself
competent to fix tlie exact number. I once put it
to a German friend who was starting for the theatre
with his wife, his mother-in-law, five children of
his own, his sister and her fiance, and two nieces, if
lie did not think he was running a risk under this
by-law. He did not take my suggestion as a joke.
He cast an eye over the group.

“ Oh, I don’t think so,” he said ; " you see, we
are all one family.”

" The paragraph says nothing about its being a
family drove or not,” I replied ; “ it simply says
' drove.' I do not mean it in any uncomplimentary
sense, but, speaking etymologically, I am inclined
personally to regard your collection as a ‘ drove.'
Whether the police will take the same view or

164 THREE MEN ON THE BHMMEL

not remains to be seen. I am merely warning
you.”

My friend himself was inclined to pooh-pooh my
fears ; but his wife thinking it better not to run any
risk of having the party broken up by the police at
the very beginning of the evening, they divided,
arranging to come together again in the theatre
lobby.

Another passion you must restrain in Germany is
that prompting you to throw things out of window
Cats are no excuse. During the iirst week of my
residence in Germany I was awakened incessantly
by cats. One night I got mad. 1 collected a small
arsenal — two or three pieces of coal, a few hard
pears, a couple of candle ends, an odd egg I found
on the kitchen table, an emply soda-water bottle,
and a few articles of that sort, — and, opening the
window, bombarded the spot from where the noise
appeared to come. I do not suppose 1 hit anytliing ;
1 never knev/ a man who did hit a cat, even when
he could sec it, except, maybe, by accident when
aiming at something else. I have known crack
shots, winners of Queen’s prizes — those sort of
men, — shoot with sliot-guns at cats fifty yards
away, and never hit a hair. I have often thought
that, instead of bull’s-eyes, running deer, and that
rubbish, the really superior marksman would be he
who could boast that he had shot the cat.

But, anyhow, the}/ moved off ; maybe the egg
annoyed them. 1 had noticed when I picked it up
that it did not look a good egg ; and I went back
to bed again, thinking the incident closed. Ten
minutes afterwards there came a violent ringing of
the electric bell. I tried to ignore it, but it was
too persistent, and, putting on my dressing gown, 1

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL iOt

went down to the gate. A policeman was standing
there. He had all the things I had been tlirowing
out of the window in a little heap in front of him,
all except the egg. He had evidently been collecting
them. He said :

“ Are those things yours ? ”

I said ; “ They were mine, but personally I have
done with them. Anybody can have them — you
can luive tluau.”

He ignored my offer. He said :

“ You tlirew these things out of window.”

“ You arc right,” I admitted ; “ I did.”

" Why di<l you throw them out of window ? ”
he asked. A (ierrnan policeman has his code of
questions arranged for him ; he never varies them,
and he never omits one.

” I tluew them out of the window at some cats,”
I answered.

“ What cats ? ” he asked.

It was the sort of question a German policeman
would ask. I replied with as much sarcasm as 1
could put into my accent that I was ashamed to say
I could not tell him what cats. I explained that,
personally, they were strangers to me ; but I offered,
if the police >vould call all the cats in the district
together, to come round and see if I could recognise
them by their yaul.

The German policeman does not understand a
joke, which is perhaps on tlie whole just as well,
for 1 believe there is a heavy fine for joking with
any German uniform ; they call it “ treating an
official with contumely.” He merely replied that
it was not the duty of the police to help me
recognise the cats ; tlieir duty was merely to line
me for throwing things out of window.

I66

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

I asked what a man was supposed to do in
Germany when woke up night after night by cats,
and he explained that I could lodge an information
against the owner of the cat, when the police would
proceed to caution him, and, if necessary, order the
cat to be destroyed. Who was going to destroy
the cat, and what the cat would be doing during
the process, he did not explain.

I asked him how he proposed I should discover
the ovTier of the cat. He thought for a while, and
then suggested that I might follow it home. I did
not feel inclined to argue with him any more after
that ; I should only have said things that would
have made the matter worse. As it was, that
night’s sport cost me twelve marks ; and not a
single one of the four German officials who inter-
viewed me on the subject could see anything
ridiculous in the proceedings from beginning to end.

But in Germany most human faults and follies
sink into comparative insignificance beside the
enormity of walking on the grass. Nowhere, and
under no circumstances, may you at any time in
Germany walk on the grass. Grass in Germany
is quite a fetish. To put your foot on German
grass would be as great a sacrilege as to dance
a hornpipe on a Mohammedan’s praying-mat. The
very dogs respect German grass ; no German dog
would dream of putting a paw on it. If you see
a dog scampering across the grass in Germany,
you may know for certain that it is the dog of some
imholy foreigner. In England, when we want to
keep dogs out of places, we put up wire netting, six
feet high, supported by buttresses, and defended on
the top by spikes. In Germany, they put a notice-
board in the middle of the place, " Hunden verboten,”

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

167

and a dog that has German blood in its veins looks
at that notice-board and walks away. In a German
park I have seen a gardener step gingerly with felt
boots on to a
grass-plot, and
removing there-
from a beetle, '

place it gravely
but firmly on

the g r a V (' 1 ; ^ ^

which done, he

stood sternly '/[

watching the '

beetle, to see

that it did not v\ A

try to get back 1 1\

on the grass ; i \V

and the beetle, V

looking utt<‘rly |

ashamed of
itself, walked • ■
hurriedly down '

Ihe glitter, iind

turned up the • -W^;4 'i435%' “

iiatli marked •• «, ’»• •

Ausgang. « • o

In German - “

parks separate . . •

roads are de- ^

voted to the

diffen'nt orders The Beeilc oud the Cardnicy.

of the commu-
nity, and no one person, at peril of liberty and
fortune, may go upon another person’s road. There
arc special paths for " wheel-riders ” and special paths

IIS

'

1 ' • ‘'r ^

t.G-

Beetle and the Gardiner.

i68

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

for '* foot-goers,” avenues for " horse-riders,” roads
for people in light vehicles, and roads for people in
heavy vehicles ; ways for children and for ” alone
ladies.'* That no particular route has yet been set
aside for bald-headed men or ” new women ” has
always struck me as an omission.

In the Grosse Garten in Dresden I once came across
an old lady, standing, helpless and bewildered,
in the centre of seven tracks. Each was guarded
by a threatening notice, warning ever3^body off it
but the person for whom it was intended.

" I am sorry to trouble you,” said the old lady, on
learning I could speak English and read German,
" but would you mind telling me what I am and
where I have to go ? ”

I inspected her carefully. I came to the
conclusion that she was a ” grown - up ” and a
” foot-goer,” and pointed out her path. She looked
at it, and seemed disappointed.

” But I don’t want to go down there,” she said ;
” mayn’t I go this way ? ”

” Great heavens, no, madam ! ” I replied. ” That
path is reserved for children.”

” But I wouldn’t do them any harm,” said the
old lady, with a smiles She did not look the sort of
old lady who would have done them any harm.

" Madam,” I replied, ” if it rested with me, I
would trust you down that path, though my own
first-bom were at the other end ; but I can only
inform you of the laws of this country. For you,
a full-grown woman, to venture down that, path is
to go to certain fine, if not imprisonment. There is
your path, marked plainly — Nur fiir Fussgdnger, and
if you will follow my advice, you will hasten down
it : you are not allowed to stand here and hesitate.”

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 169

" It doesn’t lead a bit in the direction I want to
go,” said the old lady.

” It leads in the direction you ought to want to
go,” I replied, and we parted.

In the Gennan parks there are special seats
labelled,” Only for grown-ups ” [Nur fiir Erwachsene) ,
and the German small boy, anxious to sit down,
and reading that notice, passes by, and hunts for
a seat on which children are permitted to rest ;
and there he seats himself, careful not to touch the
woodwork with his muddy boots. Imagine a seat
in Regent’s or St. James’s Park labelled ” Only
for grown-ups ! ” ICvery child for five miles round
would be trying to get on that seat, and hauling
other children off who
were on. As for any
” grown-up,” he w<jiild
newer be able to get
within half a mile of
that seat for the crowd.

The German small boy,
who has accidentally sat
dowTi on such without
noticing, rises with a
start when his error is
pointed out to him, .md
goes away with down-
cast head, blushing to
the roots of his hair with
shame and regret.

Not that the German The German Boy.

child is neglected by a

paternal Government. In Gennan parks and public
gardens special places {Spielpliitzc) are provided for
him, each one supplied with a heap of sand. There

170 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

he can play to his heart’s content at making mud
pies and building sand castles. To the German
child a pie made of any other mud than this would
appear an immoral pie. It would give to him no
satisfaction ; his soul would revolt against it.

“ That pie,” he would say to himself, “ was not,
as it should have been, made of Government mud
specially set apart for the purpose ; it was not
manufactured in the place planned and maintained
by the Government for the making of mud pics.
It can bring no real blessing with it ; it is a lawless
pie.” And until his father had paid the proper fine,
and he had received his proper licking, his conscience
would continue to trouble him.

Another excellent piece of material for obtaining
excitement in Germany is the simple domestic
perambulator. What you may do with a ” kinder-
wagen,” as it is called, and what you may not,
covers pages of German law ; after the reading of
which, you conclude that the man who can push
a perambulator through a German town without
breaking the law was meant for a diplomatist.
You must not loiter with a perambulator, and you
must not go too fast. You must not get in anybody’s
way with a perambulator, and if anybody gets
in your way you must get out of their way. If
you want to stop with a perambulator, you must
go to a place specially appointed where perambu-
lators may stop ; and when you get there you
m'ust stop. You must not cross the road with a
perambulator ; if you and the baby happen to live
on the other side, that is your fault. You must
not leave your perambulator anywhere, and only in
certain places can you take it with you. I should
say that in Gcnnany vou could go out with a

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 17I

perambulator and get into enough trouble in
half an hour to last you for a month. Any young
Englishman anxious for a row with the police could
not do better than come over to Germany and bring
his perambulator with him.

In Germany you must not leave your front door
unlocked after ten o’clock at night, and you must
not play the piano in your own house after eleven.
In England I have never felt I wanted to play
the piano m5^self, or to hear anyone else play it,
after eleven o’clock at night ; but that is a very
different thing to being told that you must not play
it. Here, in Germany, I never feel that I really care
for the piano until eleven o’clock, then I could
sit and listen to the “ Maiden’s Prayer,” or the
Overture to ” Zampa,” with pleasure. To the
law-loving German, on the other hand, music after
eleven o’clock at night ceases to be music ; it
becomes sin, and as such gives him no satisfaction.

The only individual throughout Geimany who
ever dreams of taking liberties with the law is
the German student, and he only to a certain
well-defined point. By custom, certain privileges are
permitted to him, but even the.se are strictly limited
and clearly understood. For instance, the German
student may get drunk and fall asleep in the gutter
with no other pi'iialty than that of having the next
morning to tip the policeman who has found him and
brought him home. But for this purpose he must
choose the gutters of side-streets. The Gennan
student, conscious of the rapid approach of oblivion,
uses all his remaining energy to get round the
corner, where he may collapse without anxiety.
In certain districts he may ring bells. The rent
of flats in these localities is lower than in other

17a THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

«

quarters of the town ; while the difficulty is further
met by each family preparing for itself a secret
code of bell-ringing by means of which it is known
whether the summons is genuine or not. When
visiting such a household late at night it is well
to be acquainted with this code, or you may, if
persistent, get a bucket of water thrown over you.

Also the German student is allowed to put out
lights at night, but there is a prejudice against his
putting out too many. The larky German student
generally keeps count, contenting himself with half
a dozen lights per night. Likewise, he may shout
and sing as he walks home, up till half-past two ;
and at certain restaurants it is permitted to him to
put his arm round the Fraulcin’s waist. To prevent
any suggestion of unseemliness, the waitresses at
restaurants frequented by students are always
carefully selected from among a staid and elderly
class of women, by reason of which the German
student can enjoy the delights of flirtation without
fear and without reproach to anyone.

They are a law-abiding people, the Germans.

CHAPTER X

Baden Baden from the visitor’s point of view — Beauty
of the early morning, as viewed from the preceding
afternoon — Distance, as measured by the compass —
Ditto, as measured by the leg — George in account
with his conscience — A lazy machine — Bicycling,
according to the poster : its restfulness — The poster
cyclist : its costume ; its method — The griffin as a
household pet — A dog with proper self-respect —
The horse that was abused.

From Baden, about which it need only be said
that it is a pleasure resort singularly like other
pleasure resorts of the same description, we
started bicycling in earnest. We planned a ten
days’ tour, which, while completing the Black
Forest, should include a spin down the Donau-
Thal, which for the twenty miles from Tuttlingen
to Sigmaringen is, perhaps, the finest valley in
Germany ; the Danube stream here winding its
narrow way past old-world unspoilt villages ; past
ancient monasteries, nestling in green pastures,
where still the bare-footed and bare-headed friar,
his rope girdle tight about his loins, shepherds,
with crook in hand, his sheep upon the hill sides ;
through rocky woods ; between sheer walls of cliff,
whose every towering crag stands crowned with
ruined fortress, church, or castle ; together with a
blick at the Vosges mountains, where half the

*73

174 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

♦

population is bitterly pained if you speak to them
in French, the other half being insulted when you
address them in German, and the whole indignantly
contemptuous at the first sound of English ; a
state of things that renders conversation with the
stranger somewhat nervous work.

We did not succeed in carrying out our pro-
gramme in its entirety, for the reason that human
performance lags ever behind human intention.
It is easy to say and believe at three o’clock
in the afternoon that : “We will rise at five,
breakfast lightly at half-past, and start away at
six.”

“ Then we shall be well on our way before the
heat of the day sets in,’’ remarks one.

“ This time of the year, the early morning is
really the best part of the day. Don’t you think
so ? ’’ adds another.

" Oh, undoubtedly.’’

“ So cool and fresh.”

" And the half-lights are so exquisite.”

The first morning one maintains one's vows.
The party assembles at half-past five. It is very
silent ; individually, somewhat snappy ; inclined to
grumble with its food, also with most other things ;
the atmosphere charged with compressed irritability
seeking its vent. In the evening the Tempter’s
voice is heard :

" I think if w'e got off by half-past six, sharp,
that would be time enough ? ”

The voice of Virtue protests, faintly : “ It will
be breaking our resolution.”

The Tempter replies : “ Resolutions were made
for man, not man for resolutions.” The devil
can paraphrase Scripture for his own purpose.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 175

“ Besides, it is disturbing the whole hotel ; think
of the poor servants.”

The voice of Virtue continues, but even feebler :
" But cverybodj'^ gets up early in these parts.”

“ They would not if they were not obliged
to, poor things ! Say breakfast at half-past six,
punctual : that will be disturbing nobody.”

Thus Sin masquerades under the guise of Good,
and one sleeps till six, explaining to one’s conscience,
who, however, doesn't believe it, that one docs this
because of unsclhsh consideration for others. I
have known such consideration extend until seven
of the clock.

Likewise, distance moa.surcd with a pair of
compasses is not precisely the same as when
measured by the leg.

” Ten miles an hour for seven hours, seventy
miles. A nice easy day’s work.”

” There are some stiff hills to climb ? ”

” The other side to come down. Say, eight miles
an hour, and call it sixty miles. Gott in Himmel !
if we can’t average eight miles an hour, we had
better go in batli-chairs.” It does seem somewhat
impossible to do less, on paper.

But at four o’clock in the afternoon the voice of
Duty rings less trumpet-toned :

“Well, I suppose ve ought to be getting on.”

” Oh, there ’s no hurry ! don’t fuss. Lovely view
from here, isn’t it ? ”

” Very. Don’t forget we are twenty-five miles
from St. Blasien.”

“ How far ? ”

" Twenty-five miles, a little over if anything.”

“ Do you mean to say we have onlj^ come thirty-
five miles ? ”

176 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

“ That 's all.”

” Nonsense. I don’t believe that map of yours.”

” It is impossible, you know. We have been
riding steadily ever since the first thing this
morning.”

“ No, we haven’t. We didn’t get away till
eight, to begin with.”

" Quarter to eight.”

“ Well, quarter to eight ; and every half-dozen
miles we have stopped.”

” We have only stopped to look at the view.
It ’s no good coming to see a country, and then
not seeing it.”

” And we have had to pull up some stiff hills.”

" Besides, it has been an exceptionally hot day
to-da.y.”

” Well, don’t forget St. Blasien is twenty-five
miles off, that 's all.”

“ Any more hills ? ”

“ Yes, two ; up and doum.”

" I thought you said it was downhill into St.
Blasien ? ”

" So it is for the last ten miles. We are twenty-
five miles from St. Blasien here.”

” Isn’t there anywhere between here and St.
Blasien ? What ’s that little place there on the
lake ? ”

“ It isn’t St. Blasien, or anywhere near it.
There 's a danger in beginning that sort of thing.”

” There ’s a danger in overworking oneself. One
should study moderation in all things. Pretty little
place, that Titisee, according to the map ; looks as
if there would be good air there.”

" All right, I ’m agreeable. It was you fellows
who suggested our making for St. Blasien.”

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL I77

” Oh, I ’m not so keen on St. Blasien ! poky
little place, down in a valley. This Titisee, I
should say, was ever so much nicer."

“ Quite near, isn't it ? ”

" Five miles.”

General chorus : " We '11 stop at Titisee.”

George made discovery of this difference between
theory and practice on the very first day of our
ride.

" I thought,” said George — he was riding the
single, Harris and I being a httle ahead on the
tandem — ” that the idea was to train up the hills
and ride down them.”

” So it is,” answered Harris, ” as a general rule.
But the trains don’t go up every hill in the Black
Forest.”

" Somehow, I felt a suspicion that they wouldn't,”
growled George ; and for awhile silence reigned.

" Besides,” remarked Harris, who had evidently
been ruminating the subject, " you would not
wish to have nothing but downhill, surely. It
would not be playing the game. One must take
a little rough with one’s smooth.”

Again there returned silence, broken after awhile
by George, this time.

" Don’t you two fellows over-exert yourselves
merely on my account,” said George.

” How do you mean ? ” asked Harris.

" I mean,” answered George, ” that where a train
does happen to be going up these hills, don’t you
put aside the idea of taking it for fear of outraging
my finer feelings. Personally, I am prepared to go
up all these hills in a railway train, even if it’s not
playing the game. I ’ll square the thing with my
conscience ; I 've been up at seven every day for

178 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMKL

a week now, and I calculate it owes me a bit. Don’t
you consider me in the matter at all.”

We promised to bear this in mind, and again the
ride continued in dogged dumbness, until it was
again broken by George.

" What bicj'cle did you say this was of yours ? ”
asked George.

Harris told him. I forget of what liarticular
manufacture it happened to be ; it is immaterial.

” Are you sure ? ” persisted George.

” Of course I am sure,” answered Harris. “ Why,
what 's the matter with it ? ”

” Well, it doesn’t come up to the poster,” said
George, " that ’s all.”

" What poster ? ” asked Harris.

" The poster advertising this particular brand of
cycle,” explained George. ” I was looking at one
on a hoarding in Sloane Street onl}^ a day or two
before we started. A man was riding this make of
machine, a man with a banner in his hand : he
wasn’t doing any work, that was clear as daylight ;
he was just sitting on the thing and drinking in the
air. The cycle Wiis going of its own accord, and
going well. This thing of yours leaves all the work
to me. It is a lazy brute of a machine ; if 5'’ou don’t
shove, it simply docs nothing. 1 should complain
about it, if I were you.”

When one comes to think of it, few bicycles do
realise the poster. On only one poster that 1 can
recollect have I seen the rider represented as doing
any w'ork. But then this man was being pursued
by a bull. In ordinary cases the object of the
artist is to convince the hesitating neophyte
that the sport of bicycling consists in sitting on a
luxurious saddle, and being moved rapidly in the

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEI. 179

direction you wish to go by unseen heavenly
powers.

Generally speaking, the rider is a lady, and then
one feels that, for perfect bodily rest combined with
entire freedom from mental anxiety, slumber upon
a water-bed cannot compare with bicycle-riding
upon a hilly road. No fairy travelling on a summer
cloud could take things more easily than does the
bicycle girl, according to the poster. Her costume
for cycling in ht}t weather is ideal. Old-fashioned
landladies might refuse her lunch, it is true ;
and a narrowminded police force might desire to
secure her, and wrap her in a rug preliminary to
summonsing her. But such she heeds not. Uphill
and dovwihill, through traffic that might tax the
ingenuity of a cat, over road surfaces calculated to
bi'eak the average steam roller she passes, a vision
of idle loveliness ; her fair hair streaming to the
wind, her sylph-like form poised airily, one foot upon
the saddle, the other resting lightly upon the lamp.
Sometimes she condescends to sit down on the
saddle ; then she puts her feet on the rests, lights a
cigarette, and waves above her head a Cliinese lantern.

Less often, it is a mere male thing that rides the
machine. He is not so accomplished an acrobat as
is the lady ; but siinjdc ti'icks, such as standing on
the saddle and waving flags, drinking beer or
beef-tea while riding, he can and does perform.
Something, one supposes, he must do to occupy his
mind ; sitting still hour after hour on this machine,
having no work to do, nothing to think about,
must pall upon any man of active temperament.
Thus it is that we see him rising on his pedals as he
nears the top of some high hill to apostrophise the
sun, or address poetry to the surrounding scenery.

l8o THREE MEN ON THE BUMjMEL

Occasionally the poster pictures a pair of cyclists ;
and then one grasps the fact how much superior for
purposes of flirtation is the modem bicj^cle to the
old-fashioned parlour or the played-out garden gate.
He and she mount their bicycles, being careful, ol
course, that such are of the right make After that
they have nothing to think about but the old sweet
tale- Down shady lanes, through busy towns on
market days, merrily roll the wheels of the " Ber-
mondsey Company’s Bottom Bracket Britain’s
Best,” or of the *' Camberwell Company’s Jointless
Eureka.” They need no pedalling ; they require no
guiding. Give them their heads, and tell them what
time you want to get home, and that is all they ask.
While Edwin leans from his saddle to whisper the dear
old nothings in Angelina’s ear, while Angelina’s face, to
hide its blushes, is turned towards the horizon at
the back, the magic bicycles pursue their even course.

And the sun is always shining, and the roads are
always dry. No stem parent rides behind, no inter-
fering aunt beside, no demon small boy brother is
peeping round the comer, there never comes a skid.
Ah me ! Why were there no ” Britain’s Best ” nor
" Camberwell Eurekas ” to be hired when we were
young ?

Or maybe the ” Britain’s Best ” or the ” Camber-
well Eureka ” stands leaning against a gate ; maybe
it is tired. It has worked hard all the afternoon,
carrying these young people. Mercifully minded
they have dismounted, to give the machine a rest.
They sit upon the grass beneath the shade of graceful
boughs ; it is long and dry grass. A stream flows
by their feeh All is rest and peace.

That is ever the idea the cycle poster artist sets
himself to convey — rest and peace.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL l8l

But I am wrong in saying that no cyclist, according
to the poster, ever works. Now I come to reflect,
I have seen posters representing gentlemen on cycles
working very hard — over-working themselves, one
might almost say. They are thin and haggard with
the toil, the perspiration stands upon their brow in
beads ; you feel that if there is another hill beyond
the poster they must either get off or die. But this
is the result of their own folly. This happens
because they will persist in riding a machine of an
inferior make. Were they riding a " Putney Popular”
or " Battersea Bounder,” such as the sensible
young man in the centre of the poster rides, then
all this unnecessary labour would l5e saved to them.
Then all required of them would be, as in gratitude
bound, to look happy ; perhaps, occasionally to
back-pedal a little when the machine in its youthful
buoyancy loses its head for a moment and dashes
on too swiftly.

You tired young men, sitting dejectedly on mile-
stones, too spent to heed the steady rain that soaks
you through ; you weary maidens, with the straight,
damp hair, anxious about the time, longing to swear,
not knowing how ; you stout bald men, vanishing
visibly as you pant and grunt along the endless road ;
you purple, dejected matrons, plying with pain the
slow unwilling wheel ; why did you not see to it
that you bought a “ Britain’s Best ” or a " Camber-
well Eureka ” ? Why are these bicycles of inferior
make so prevalent throughout the land ?

Or is it with bicycling as with all other things :
docs Life at no point realise the Poster ?

The one thing in Germany that never fails to
charm and fascinate me is the German dog. In
England one grows tired of the old breeds, one

i 82 three men on the bummel

knows them all so well : the mastiff, the plum-
pudding dog, the terrier (black, white or rough-haired,
as the case may be, but always quarrelsome),
the collie, the bulldog ; never anything new. Now
in Germany you get variety. You come across dogs
the like of which you have never seen before ; that
until you hear them bark you do not know arc dogs.
It is all so fresh, so interesting. George stopped
a dog in Sigmaringen and drew our attention to it.
It suggested a cross between a codfish and a poodle.
I would not like to be positive it was not a cross
between a codfish and a poodle. Harris tried to
photograph it, but it ran up a fimce and disappeared
through some bushes.

I do not know what the German breeder's idea is ;
at present he retains his secret. George suggests
he is aiming at a griffin. There is much to bear out
this theory, and indeed in one or two ca.ses I have
come across success on these lines would seem to
have been almost achieved. Yet I cannot bring
myself to believe that such are anything more than
mere accidents. The German is practical, and I
fail to see the object of a griffin. If mere quaint-
ness of design be desired, is there not already the
Dachshund ! What more is needed ? Besides,
about a house, a griffin would be so inconvenient :
people would be continually treading on its tail.
My own idea is that what the Germans arc trying
for is a mermaid, which they will then train to
catch fish.

For your German does not encourage laziness in
any living thing. He likes to see his dogs work,
and the German dog loves work ; of that there can
be no doubt. The life of the English dog must be
a misery to him. Imagine a strong, active, and

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 183

intelligent being, of exceptionally energetic tem-
perament, condemned to spend twenty-four hours
a da}^ in absolute idleness ! How would you like
it yourself ? No wonder he feels misunderstood,
yearns for the unattainable, and gets himself into
trouble generally.

Now the German dog, on the other hand, has
plenty to occupy his mind. He is busy and important.
Watch him as he walks along harnessed to his mdk
cart. No churchwarden at ccllection time could
feel or look more pleased with himself. He does
not do any real work ; the human being does the
pushing, he does the barking ; that is his idea of
division of labour. What he says to himself is ;

“ The old man can’t bark, but he can shove.
Very well.”

The interest and the pride he takes in the business
is quite beautiful to sec. Another dog passing
by makes, maybe, some jeering remark, casting
discredit upon the creaminess of the milk. He
stops suddenly, quite regardless of the traffic.

“ I beg 5'our pardon, what was that you said
about our milk ? ”

“ I said nothing about your milk,” retorts the
other dog, in a tone of gentle innocence. “ I merely
said it was a fine day, and asked the price of chalk.”

“ Oh, you asked the price of chalk, did you ?
Would you like to know ? ”

” Yes, thanks ; somehow I thought you would be
able to tell me.”

” You are quite right, I can. It ’s worth ”

” Oh, do come along ! ” says the old lady, who is
tired and hot, and anxious to finish her round.

” Yes, but hang it all ; did you hear what he
hinted about our milk ? ”

lf^4 THREE MEN OX fllE

" Oh, never mind h'ln ! There ’s a tram coming
round the corner ; we shall all get nin over.”

” Yes, but I do mind him ; one has one’s proper
pride. He asked the price of chalk, and he ’s
going to know it ! It 's worth just twenty times
as much ”

" You ’ll have the whole thing over, I know you
will,” cries the old lady, pathetically, struggling
with all her feeble strength to haul him back. “ Oh
dear, oh clear ! I do wish I had left you at home.”

The tram is bearing down upon them ; a cab-
driver is shouting at them ; another huge brute,
hoping to be in time to take a hand, is dragging a
bread cart, followed by a screaming child, across
the road from the opposite side ; a small crowd
is collecting ; and a policeman is hastening to the
scene.

“It’s worth,” says the milk dc/g, “just twenty
times as much as you ’ll be worth before 1 ’ve done
with you.”

“ Oh, you think so, do you ?

“ Yes, 1 do, you grandson of a French poodle,
you cabbage-eating ”

“ There ! I knew you 'd have it over,” says the
poor milk-woman. “ I told him he ’d have it over.”

But he is busy, and heeds her not. Five minutes
later, when the traffic is renewed, when the bread
girl has collected her muddy rolls, and the
policeman has gone off with the name and address
of everybody in the street, he consents to look
behind him.

“ It is a bit of an upset,” he admits. Then shaking
himself free of care, he adds, cheerfully, “But I
guess I taught him the price of chalk He won’t
interfere with us again, I ’m thinking.”

THKEE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 185

" I 'm sure I hope not,” says the old lady, regarding
dejectedly the milky road.

But his favourite sport is to wait at tlie top of the
hill for another dog, and then race down. On these
occasions the chief occupation of the other fellow
is to run about behind, picking up the scattered
articles, loaves, cabbages, or shirts, as they are
jerked out. At the bottom of the hill, he stops
and waits for his friend.

” Good race, wasn’t it ? ” he remarks, panting, as
the Human comes up, laden to the chin. “ I believe
I ’d have won it, too, if it hadn’t been for that fool
of a small boy. He was right in my way just as I
turned the corner. You noticed him ? Wish I had,
beastly brat ! What ’s he yelling like that for ?
Because I knocked him down and ran over him ? Well,
why didn’t he get out of the way ? It ’s disgraceful,
the way people leave their children about for other
people to tumble over. Halloa ! did all those things
come out ? Yoir couldn’t have packed them very
carefully ; you should see to a thing like that. Yon
did not dream of my tearing down the hill twenty miles
an hour ? Surely, you knew me better than to c.xpect
I ’d let that old Schneider’s dog pass me without
an effort. But there, you never think. You ’re sure
you ’ve got them all ? You believe so ? I shouldn’t
‘ believe ’ if I were you ; I should run back up the
hill again and make sure. You feel too tired? Oh,
all right ! don’t blame me if anything is missing,
that ’s all.”

He is so self-willed. He is cock-sure that' the
correct turning is the second on the right, and
nothing will piusuado him that it is the third. He
is positive he can get across the road in time, and
will not be convinced until he sees the cart smashed

i86

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEE

up. Then he is very apologetic, it is trac. But of
what use is that ? As he is usually of the size and
strenglli of a young bull, and his human companion
is generally a weak-kneed old man or woman, or a
small child, he has his way. The greatest punislimcnt
his propi'ietor can inflict upon him is to leave him
at home, and take the cart out alone. But your
German is too kind-hearted to do this often.

That he is harnessed to the cart for anybody’s
pleasure but his o\vn it is impossible to believe ; and
I am confident that the German peasant plans the
tiny harness and fashions the little cart purely with
the hope of gratifying his dog. In other countries —
in Belgium, Holland and France — I have seen these
draught dogs ill-treated and over-worked ; but in
Germany, never. Germans abuse animals shock-
ingly. I have seen a German stand in front of his
horse and call it every name he could lay his tongue
to. But the horse did not mind it. I have seen a
German, weary with abusing his horse, call to his
wife to come out and assist him. When she came,
he told her what the horse had done. The recital
roused the woman’s temper to almost equal heat
with his own ; and standing one each side of the poor
beast, they both abused it. They abused its dead
mother, they insulted its father ; they made cutting
remarks about its personal appearance, its intelli-
gence, its moral sense, its general ability as a horse.
The animal bore the torrent with exemplary patience
for awhile ; then it did the best thing possible to do
under the circumstances. Without losing its own
temper, it moved quietly away. The lady returned
to her washing, and the man followed it up the street,
still abusing it.

A kinder-hearted people than the Germans there

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 187

is no need for. Cruelty to animal or child is a thing
almost unknown in the land. The whip with them
is a musical instrument ; its crack is heard from
morning to night, but an Italian coachman that in
the streets of Dresden I once saw use it was very
nearly lynched by the indignant crowd. Germany
is the only country in Europe where the traveller
can settle himself comfortably in his hired carriage,
confident (hat his gentle, willing friend between the
shaft? ivill be neither over- worked nor cruelly
treated.

CHAPTER XI

Black Forest House : and the sociabilily therein — Its
perfume — George positively declines to remain in
bed after four o’clock in the morning-— The road
one cannot miss — My peculiar extra instinct- —An
ungrateful party — Harris as a scientist -His cheery
confidence — The village : zvhere it zras, and where
it ought to have been — George : his plan — We
promenade d la Frant^ais—Thc German coachman
asleep and awake — The man icho spreads the
English language abroad.

Xlir.RE was one night when, tired out and far from
town or village, we slept in a Black Forest farmhouse.
The great charm about the Black Forest house is
its sociability. The cows are in the next room,
the horses are upstairs, the geese and ducks arc
in the kitchen, while the pigs, the children, and the
chickens live all over the place.

You are dressing, when you hear a grunt behind
you.

" Good-rnorning ! Don’t happen to have any
potato peelings in here ? No, I see you haven’t ;
good-bye.”

Next there is a cackle, and you see the neck of
an old hen stretched round the corner.

“ Fine morning, isn’t it ? You don’t mind my
bringing this worm of mine in here, do you ? It
is so difficult in this house to find a room where one

tSS

TimEE MEN ON THE BUMMEL iSt,

•

can enjoy one’s food with any quietness. From
a chicken I have always been a slow eater, and
when a dozen — there, I thought they wouldn’t leave
me alone. Now they ’ll all want a bit. You don’t
mind my getting on the bed, do you ? Perhaps
here they wcm’t notice me.”

While you are dressing various shock heads peer
in at the door ; they evidently regard the room as a
temporaiy menagerie. You cannot tell whether the
heads belong to boys or girls ; you can only hope
they are all male. It is of no use shutting the door,
because there is nothing to fasten it by, and the
moment you are gone they puisli it open again.
You breakfast as the Prodigal Son is generally
represented feeding : a pig or two drop in to keep
you company ; a party of elderly geese criticise yo\i
from the door ; you gather from their whispers,
added to their shocked expression, that they are
talking scandal about you. Maybe a cow will
condescend to give a glance in.

This Noah’s Ark arrangement it is, I suppose,
that gives to the Black Forest home its distinctive
scent. It is uol a scent you can lik< n to any one
thing. It is JUS if you took roses and Limburger
cheese and hair oil, st)me heather and onions,
peaches and soapsuds, b>gether with a dash of sea
air and a corj)se, and mixed them up together. You
cannot define any particular odour, but you feel
they are all then; — alt the odours that the world
has yet discovered. I’eople who live ii\ these
houses are fond of this mixture. They do not
open the window and lose any of it ; they keep it
carefully bottled up. If you want any other scent,
you can go outside and smell the wood violets and
tlie pines : inside there is the house ; and after a

IQO

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

while, I am told, you get used to it, so that you
miss it, and are unable to go to sleep in any other
atmosphere.

We had a long walk before us the next day, and
it was our desire, therefore, to get up early, even so
early as six o’clock, if that could be managed with-
out disturbing the whole household. We put it to
our hostess whether she thought this could be done.
She said she thought it could. She might not be
about herself at that time ; it was her morning for
going into the town, some eight miles off, and she
rarely got back much before seven ; but, possibly,
her husband or one of the boys would be returning
home to lunch about that hour. Anyhow, somebody
should be sent back to wake us and get our breakfast.

As it turned out, we did not need any waking.
We got up at four, all by ourselves. We got up at
four in order to get away from the noise and the din
that was making our heads ache. What time the
Black Forest peasant rises in the summer time I am
unable to say ; to us they appeared to be getting
up all night. And the first thing the Black Forester
does when he gets up is to put on a pair of stout
boots w’ith wooden soles, and take a constitutional
round the house. Until he has been three times up
and down the stairs, he does not feel he is up. Once
fully awake himself, the next thing he does is to go
upstairs to the stables, and wake up a horse. (The
Black Forest house being built generally on the side
of a steep hill, the ground floor is at the top, and
the hay-loft at the bottom.) Then the horse, it
w’ould seem, must also have its constitutional round
the house ; and this seen to, the man goes down-
stairs into the kitchen and begins to chop wood,
and when he has chopped sufficient wood he feels

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

191

pleased with himself and begins to sing. All things
considered, we came to the conclusion we could not
do better than follow the excellent example set us.
Even George was quite eager to get up that
morning.

We had a frugal breakfast at half-past four, and
started away at five. Our road lay over a mountain,
and from enquiries made in the village it appeared
to be one of those roads 3mu cannot possibly miss.
I suppose everybody knows this sort of road.
Generally, it leads you back to where you started
from ; and when it doesn’t, you wish it did, so that
at all events you might know where you were. I
foresaw evil from the very first, and before we had
accomplished a couple of miles we came up with it.
The road divided into three. A worm-eaten sign-
post indicated that the path to the left led to a
place that we had never heard of — that was on no
map. Its other arm, pointing out the direction of
the middle road, had disappeared. The road to the
right, so we all agreed, clearly led back again to
the village.

“ 7'he old man said distinctly,” so Harris reminded
us, “ keep straight on round the hill.”

“ Which hill ? ” George asked, pertinently.

We were confronted b)^ half a dozen, some of
them big, some of them little.

‘‘ He told us,” continued Harris, '' that we should
come to a wood.”

" I see no reason to doubt him,” commented
George, ” whichever road we take.”

As a matter of fact, a dense wood covered every
hill.

“ And he said,” murmured Harris, ” that we
should reach the top in about an hour and a half.”

192

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

" There it is,” said George, " that I begin to
disbelieve him.”

” Well, what shall we do ? ” said Harris.

Now I happen to possess tlie bump of locality.
It is not a virtue ; I make no boast of it. It is
merely an animal instinct that I cannot help. That
things occasionally get in my way — mountains,
precipices, rivers, and such like obstructions — is no
fault of mine. My instinct is correct enough ; it is
the earth that is wrong. I led them by the middle
road. That the middle road had not character
enough to continue for any quarter of a mile in the
same direction ; that after three miles up and down
hill it ended abruptly in a wasps’ nest, was not a
thing that should have been laid to my door. If
the middle road had gone in the direction it ought
to have done, it would have taken us to wliere we
wanted to go, of tliat I am convinced.

Even as it was, I would have continued to use
this gift of mine to discover a fresh way had a
proper spirit been displayed towards me. But I am
not an angel — I admit this frankly, — and I decline
to exert myself for the ungrateful and the ribald.
Besides, I doubt if George and Harris would have
followed me further in any event. Therefore it was
that I washed my hands of the whole affair, and
that Harris entered upon the vacancy.

" Well,” said Harris, “ 1 suppose you are satisfied
with what you have done ? ”

" I am quite satisfied,” I replied fnun the heap of
stones where I was sitting. ” So far, 1 have brought
you with safety. I would continue to lead you
further, but no artist can work withoiit encourage-
ment You appear dissatisfied with me because you
do not know where you are. P'or all you know.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

193

you may be just where you want to be. But I say
nothing as to that ; I expect no tlianks . Go your
own way ; I have done with you both.”

I spoke, perhaps, with bitterness, but I could not
help it. Not a word of kindness had I had all
the weary way.

” Do not misunderstand us,” said Harris ; “ both
(jeorge and myself feel tliat without your assistance
we should never be where we now are. For that
we give you every credit. But instinct is liable to
error. What T propose to do is to substitute for
it Science, wliich is exact. Now, where 's the
sun ?

” Don’t you think,” said George, ” that if we
made our way back to the village, and hired a
boy for a mark to guide us, it would save time in
tlie end ? ”

“ It would be wasting hours,” said Harris, with
decision. “ You leave this to me. I have been
reading about tliis tiling, and it has interested
me.” He took out his watch, and began tuniing
himself round and round.

“ It 's as simple as A B C,” he continued. ” You
point the short hand at tlie sun, then you bisect the
segment between the short hand and the twelve,
and thus you get the north.”

He w’orried up and down for a while, then he
fixed it.

" Now I ’ve got it,” he said ; ” tliat 's the north,
where that wasps’ nest is. Now give me the
map.”

We handed it to him, and seating himself facing
the wasps, he examined it.

" Todtmoos from here.” he said, ” is south by
South-%vest.”

194

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

“ How do you mean, from here ? ” asked George.

" Why, from here, where we arc,” returned
Harris.

“ But where are we ? ” s-aid George.

This worried Harris for a time, but at length he
cheered up.

" It doesn’t matter where we are,” he said.
" Wherever we are, Todtmoos is south by south-
west. Come on, we are only wasting time.”

” I don’t quite see how you make it out,” said
George, as he rose and shouldered his knapsack ;
“ but I suppose it doesn’t matter. We arc out for
our health, and it ’s all pretty ! ”

" We shall be all right,” said Harris, with cheery
confidence. ” We shall be in at Todtmoos before
ten, don’t you worry. And at Todtmoos we will
have something to eat.”

He said that he, himself, fancied a beefsteak,
followed by an omelette. George said that,
personally, he intended to keep his mind off the
subject until he saw Todtmoos.

We walked for half an hour, then emerging
upon an opening, we saw below us, about two
miles away, the village through which we had
passed that morning. It had a quaint church
with an outside staircase, a somewhat unusual
arrangement.

The sight of it made me sad. We had been
walking hard for three hours and a half, and had
accomphshed, apparently, about four miles. But
Harris was delighted.

“ Now, at last,” said Harris, " we know where
we are.”-

‘‘ I thought you said it didn’t matter,” George
reminded him.

THREE MEN ON THE BUiMMKL I93

" No more it does, practically,” replied Harris,
" but it is just as well to be certain. Now I feel
more confidence in myself.”

” I 'm not so sure about that Leing an advantage,”
muttered George. But I do not think Harris
heard him.

” We are now,” continued Harris, ” east of the
sun, and Todtmoos is south-west of where we are.
So lha! if ”

He broke off. “ By-the-by,” he said, " do you
remember whether I said the bisecting line of that
segment j ointed to the north or to the south ? ”

” 'li'ou said it pointed to the north,” replied

George.

” Are you positive ? ” persisted Harris.

” Positive,” answered George ; ” but don’t let

that influence your Ccdculations. In all probability
you wore wrong.”

Harris thought for a while ; then his brow
cleared.

“ That ’s all right,” he said ; ” of course, it 's the
north. It must be the north. How could it be the
soiitli ? Now we must make for the west. Come on.”

“ I am quite willing to make for the west,” said
George ; ‘‘ any point of the compass is the same to
me. I only wish to remark that, at the present
moment, we are going dead east.”

” No we are not,” returned Harris ; ” we are
going west.”

“ We arc going east, I tell you,” said George.

” I wish you wouldn’t keep saying that,” said
Harris ; " you confuse me.”

” I don’t mind if I do,” returned George ; ” I
would rather do that than go wrong. I tell you
we are going dead east.”

196 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

" What nonsense ! ” retorted Harris ; “ there 's
(he sun.”

" I can see the sun,” answered George, ” quite
distinctly. It may be where it ought to be,
according to you and Science, or it may not. All I
know is, that when we were down in the village,
that particular hill with that particular lump of
rock upon it was due north of us. At the present
moment we are facing due east.”

” You are quite riglit,” said Harris ; “ I forgot
for the moment that we had turned round.”

" I should get into the habit of making a note
of it, if I were you,” grumbled George ; " it ’s a
manoeuvre that will probably occur again more
than once.”

We faced about, and walked in the other direction.
At the end of forty minutes' climbing we again
emerged upon an opening, and again the village
lay just under our feet. On this occasion it was
south of us.

“ This is very extraordinary,” said Harris.

“ I see nothing remarkable about it,” said George.
" If you walk steadily round a village it is only
natural that now and then you get a glimpse of it.
Myself, I am glad to see it. It proves to me that
we are not utterly lost.”

“ It ought to be the other side of us,” said
Harris.

“It will be in another hour or so,” said George,
“ if we keep on.”

I said httle myself ; I was vexed with both of
them ; but I was glad to notice George evidently
growing cross with Harris. It was absurd of Harris
to fancy he could find the way by the sun.

“ I wish I knew,” said Harris, thoughtfully, " for

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEI, I97

certain whether that bisecting line points to the
north or to the south.”

” I should make up my mind about it,” said
George; "it’s an important point.”

“ It 's impossible it can be the north,” said
Harris, " and I ’ll tell you why.”

" You needn’t trouble,” said George ; " I am
quite prepared to believe it isn’t.”

" You said just now it was,” said Harris, re-
proachfully.

" I said nothing of the sort,” retorted George.
" I said you said it was — a very different thing. If
you think it isn’t, let ’s go the other way. It '11 be
a change, at all events.”

So Harris worked things out according to the
contrary calculation, and again we plunged into the
wood ; and again after half an hour’s stiff climbing
we came in view of that same village. True, we
were a little higher, and this time it lay between
us and the sun.

" I think,” said George, as he stood looking down
at it, “ tliis is the best view' we ’ve had of it, as yet.
There is only one other point from which we can
see it. After that, I propose we go dowm into it
and get some rest.”

" I don’t believe it 's the same village,” said
Harris ; " it can’t be.”

" There ’s no mistaking that church,” said George.
" But maybe it is a case on all fours with that Prague
statue. Possibly, the authorities hereabout have
had made some life-sized models of that village,
and have stuck them about the Forest to see wliere
the tiling would look best. Anyhow, which way
do w'e go now ? ”

■'* I don’t know,” said Harris, " and I don’t care.

igS THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

I have done my best ; you 've done nothing but
grumble, and confuse me.”

” I may have been critical,” admitted George ;
" but look at the thing from my point of view.
One of you says he 's got an instinct, and leads me
to a wasps’ nest in the middle of a wood.”

” I can’t help wasps building in a wood,” I
replied.

” I don’t say you can,” answered George. " I am
not arguing ; I am merely stating incontrovertible
facts. The other one, who leads me up and down
hill for hours on scientific principles, doesn’t know
the north from the south, and is never quite sure
whether he ’s turned round or whether he hasn’t.
Personally, I profess to no instincts bcjmnd the
ordinary, nor am I a scientist. But two fields off
I can see a man. I am going to offer him the
worth of the hay he is cutting, which I estimate
at one mark fifty pfennig, to leave his work, and
lead me to within sight of Todtmoos. If you two
fellows like to follow, you can. If not, you can start
another system and work it out by yourselves.”

George’s plan lacked both originality and aplnmb,
but at the moment it appealed to us. Fortunately,
we had worked round to a very short distance away
from the spot where we had originally gone wrong ;
with the result that, aided by the gentleman of
the scythe, we recovered the road, and reached
Todtmoos four hours later than we had calculated
to reach it, with an appetite that took forty-live
minutes’ steady work in silence to abate.

From Todtmoos we had intended to walk aown
to the Rhine ; but having regard to our extra
exertions of the morning, we decided to promenade
in a carriage, as the French would say : and for this

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL igg

•

purpose hired a picturesque-looking vehicle, drawn
by a horse that I should have called barrel-bodied
but for contrast with his driver, in comparison with
whom he was angular. In Germany every vehicle is
arranged for a pair of horses, but drawn generally
by one. This gives to the equipage a lop-sided
appearance, according to our notions, but it is held
here to indicate style. The idea to be conveyed is
that you usually drive a pair of horses, but that fol
the moment you have mislaid the other one. The
German driver is not what we should call a first-class
whip. He is at his best when he is asleep. Then,
at all events, he is harmless ; and the horse being,
generally speaking, intelligent and experienced,
progress under these conditions is comparatively
safe. If in Germany they could only train the horse
to collect the money at the end of the journey, there
would be no need for a coachman at all. This would
be a distinct relief to the passenger, for when the
German coachman is awake and not cracking his
whip he is generally occupied in getting himself into
trouble or out of it. He is better at the former.
Once I recollect driving down a steep Black Forest
hill with a couple of ladies. It was one of those
roads winding corkscrew-wise down the slope. The
hill rose at an angle of seventy-five on the off-side,
and fell away at an angle of seventy-five on the
near-side. We were proceeding very comfortably,
the driver, we were happy to notice, with his eyes
shut, when suddenly something, a bad dream ot
indigestion, awoke him. He seized the reins, and,
by an adroit movement, pulled the near-side horse
over the edge, where it clung, half supported by the
traces Our driver did not appear in the least
annoyed or surprised ; both horses, I also noticed,

200

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

seemed equally used to the situation. We got out,
and he got down. He took from under the seat
a huge "^lasp-knife, evidently kept there foi the
purpose, and deftly cut the traces. The horse, thus
released, rolled over and over until he stnick the
road again some fifty feet below. There he regained
his feet and stood waiting for us. We re-entered
the carriage and descended with the single horse
until we came to him. There, with the help of some
bits of string, our driver harnessed him again, and
we continued on our way. What impressed me
was the evident accustomedne.ss of both driver and
horses to this method of working down a hill.

Evidently to them it appeared a short and
convenient cut. I should not have been surprised
had the man suggested our strapping ourselves in,
and then rolling over and over, carriage and all, to
the bottom.

Another peculiarity of the German coachman is
that he never attempts to pull in or to pull up. Hr
regulates his rate of speed, not by the pace of the
horse, but by manipulation of the brake. For eight
miles an hour he puts it on slightly, so that it only
scrapes the wheel, producing a continuous sound
as of the sharpening of a saw ; for four miles an
hour he screws it down harder, and you travel to an
accompaniment of groans and shrieks, suggestive of
a symphony of dying pigs. When he desires to
come to a lull stop, he puts it on to its full. If his
brake be a good one, he calculates he can stop his
carriage, unless the horse be an extra powerful
animal, in less than twice its own length. Neither
the German driver nor the German horse knows,
apparently, that you can stop a carriage by any
other method. The German horse continues to pull

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

201

with his full strength until he finds it impossible
to move the vehicle another inch ; then he rests.
Horses of other countries are quite willing to stop
when the idea is suggested to them. I have known
horses content to go even quite slowly But your
German horse, secnningly, is built for one particular
speed, and is unable to depart from it. I am stating
nothing but the literal, unadorned truth, when I say
I have seen a German coachman, with the reins
lying loose ov( r the splash-board, working his brake
with both hands, in teiTor lest he would not be in
time to avoid a collision.

At Waldshut, one of those little sixteenth-century
towns through which the Rhine flows during its
earlier course, we came across that exceedingly
common object of the Continent : the travelling
Briton grieved and surprised at the unacquaintance
of the foreigner with the subtleties of the English
language. When we entered the station he was, in
vc'iy fair English, though with a slight Somersetshire
accent, exjdaining to a porter for the tenth time,
as he informed us, the simple fact that though
he himself had a ticket for Donaueschingen, and
wanted to go to Donaueschingen, to see. the source
of the Danube, which is not there, though they tell
you it is, he wished his bic 5 -cle to be sent on to
Engen and his bag to Constance, there to await his
arrival. He was hot and angry with the effort of the
thing. The porter was a young man in years, but
at tlie moment looked old and miserable. I offered
my services. I wish now 1 had not — though not
so fcrv('ntly, I expect, as he, the speechless one,
came subsequently to wLsh this. All three routes,
so the porter explained to us, were com[)licated,
necessitating changing and re-changing. There was

202

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

not much time for calm elucidation, as our own train
was starting in a few minutes. The man himself
was voluble— always a mistake wlicn anything

Explaining to the Porter.

entangled has to be made clear ; while the porter
was only too eager to get the job done with and so
breathe again. It dawned upon me ten minutes
later, when thinking the matter over in the train,

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

203

that tliough I had agreed with the porter that it
would be best for the bicycle to go by way of
Immendingen, and had agreed to his booking it to
Immendingen, I had neglected to give instructions
for its departure from Immendingen. Were I of
a despondent temperament I should be worrying
myself at the present moment with the reflection
that in all probability that bicycle is still at
Immendingen to this day. But I regard it as good
philosophy to endeavour always to see the brighter
side of things. Possibly the porter corrected my
omission on his owi account, or some simple
miracle may have happened to restore that bicycle
to its owner some time before the end of his tour.
The bag we sent to Radolfzell : but here I console
myself with the recollection that it was labelled
Constance ; and no doubt after a while the railway
authorities, finding it unclaimed at Radolfzell,
forwarded it on to Constance.

But all this is apart from the moral I wisnefl to
draw from the incident. The true inwardness of
the situation lay in the indignation of this Britisher
at finding a German railway porter unable to com-
prehend English. The moment we spoke to him he
expressed this indignation in no measured terms.

“ Thank you very much indeed,” he said ; it 's
simple enough. I want to go to Donaueschingen
myscll by train ; from Donaueschingen I am going
to wjik to Geisengen ; from Geisengen I am going
to lake die train to Engen, and from Engen I am
going to bicycle to Constance. But I don’t want
tu '■ake my bag with me ; I want to find it at
Constance when I get there. I have been trying
to cx])laiii the thing to this fool for the last ten
minutes ; but I can’t get it into him.”

204

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

“ It is very disf^racoful," I agreed. “ Some of
tliesc German workmen know liarJly any other
language than their own.”

“ I have gone over it with him,” continued the
man, ” on the time table, and explained it by
pantomime. Even then I could not knock it into
him.”

'* I can hardly believe you,” I again remarked ;
" you would think the thing explained itself.”

Harris was angry with the man ; he wished to
reprove him for his folly in journeying through the
outlying portions of a foreign clime, and si'cking
in such to accomplish complicated railway tricks
without knowing a word of the language of the
country. But I checked the impulsiveness of Harris,
and pointed out to him the great and good work at
which the man was unconsciously assisting.

Shakespeare and Milton may have done their
little best to spread acquaintance with the English
tongue among the less favoured inhabitants of Europe.
Newton and Darwin may have rendered their
language a necessity among educated and thoughtful
foreigners. Dickens and Ouida (for your folk who
imagine that the literary world is bounded by the
prejudices of New Gnib Street, would be surprised
and grieved at the position occupied abroad by this
at-home-sneered-at lady) may have helped still further
to pojmlarise it. But the man who has spread the
knowledge of English from Cape St. Vincent to the
Ural Mountains is the Englishman \\ho, unable or
unwilling to learn a single word of any language but
his own, travels purse in hand into every corner
of the Continent. One may be shocked at his
ignorance, annoyed at his stupidity, angry at his
presumption. But the practical fact remains ; he

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMl^L *05

it is that is anglicising Europe. For him the Swiss
peasant tramps through the snow on winter evenings
to attend the English class open in every village.
For him the coachman and the guard, the chamber-
maid and the laundress, pore over their English
grammars and colloquial phrase books. For him
the foreign shopkeeper and merchant send their sons
and daughters in their thousands to study in every
English town. For him it is that every foreign
hotel- and restaurant-keeper adds to his advertise-
ment : " Only those with fair knowledge of English
need apply.”

Did the English-speaking races make it their rule
to speak anything else than English, the marvellous
progress of the English tongue throughout the world
would stop. Tlic Englisli-speaking man stands
amid the strangers and jingles his gold.

“ Here,” he cries, " is payment for all such as
can speak English.”

He it is who is the great educator. Theoretically
we may scold him ; practically we should take our
hats off to him. He is the missionary of the
English tongue.

CIIAPTF.R XII

fVa are grieved at the earthly instincts of the German —
A superb view, but no restaurant — Continental
opinion of the Englishman -That he does not know
enough to come in out of the rain — There comes a
weary traveller icith a brick — The himting of the
dog — An undesirable family residence — A fruitful
region — A merry old soul comes up the hill —
George, alarmed at the lateness of the hour, hastens
down the other side — Harris follows Mm, to show
him the way — I hate being alone, and follow
Harris — Pronunciation specially designed for use
of foreigners.

A THING that vexes much the high-class Anglo-Saxon
soul is the earthly instinct prompting the German
to fix a restaurant at the goal of every excursion.
On mountain summit, in fairy glen, on lonely pass,
by waterfall or winding stream, stands ever the
busy Wirtschaft. How can one rhapsodise over
a view when surrounded by beer-stained tables ?
How lose one’s self in historical reverie amid the
odour of roast veal and spinach ?

One day, on elevating thoughts intent, we climbed
through tangled woods.

“ Ajid at the top,” said Harris, bitterly, as wc
paused to breathe a space and pull our belts a hole
tighter, “ there will be a gaudy restaurant, where
people will be guzzling beefsteaks and plum tarts
and drinking white wine.”

106

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

207

Do you think so ? ” sai(i George.

“ Sure to be,” answered Harris ; “ you know their
way Not one grove will they consent to dedicate
to solitude and contemplation ; not one height will
they leave to the lover of nature unpolluted by the
gross and the material.”

“ I calculate,” I remarked, " that we shall be
there a little before one o’clock, provided we don’t
dawdle.”

“ The ‘ mittagstisch ’ will be just ready,” groaned
Harris, “ with possibly some of those little blue
hout they catch about here. In Germany one never
seems able to get away from food and drink. It is
maddening ! ”

We pushed on, and in the beauty of the walk
forgot our indignation. My estimate proved to be
correct.

At a quarter to one, said Harris, who was leading :

“ Here we are ; I can see the summit.”

" Any sign of that restaurant ? ” said George.

" I dc/ii’t notice it,” replied Harris ; " but it ’s
there, you may be sure ; confound it ! ”

Five minutes later we stood upon the top. We
looked north, south, east and west ; then we looked
at one another.

” Grand vit-w, isn’t it ? ” said Harris
Magnificent,” I agreed.

“ Superb,” remarked George.

“ They have had the good sense ior once,” said
Harris, “ to put that restaurant out of sight.”

” They do seem to have hidden it,” said George.

” One doesn’t mind the thing so much when it is
not forced under one’s nose,” said Harris.

” Of course, in its place,” I observed, “ a restaurant
is right enougii.”

208

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

" I should like to know whore they have put it,”
said George.

‘‘ Suppose we look for it ? ” said Harris, with
inspiration.

It seemed a good idea. I felt carious myself.
We agreed to c.xplore in different directions, returning
to the summit to report progress. In half an hour
we stood together once again. There was no need
for words. The face of one and all of us announced
plainly that at last we had discovered a recess of
German nature untaniished by the sordid suggestion
of food or drink.

” I should never have believed it possible,” said
Harris : " would you ? ”

“ I should say,” I replied, " that this is the only
square quarter of a mile in the entire Fatherland
unprovided with one.”

” And we three strangers have struck it,” said
George, " without an effort.”

” True,” I observed. “ By pure good fortune we
are now enabled to feast our liner senses undisturbed
by appeal to our lower nature. Observe the light
upon those distant peaks ; is it not ravishing ? ”

" Talking of nature,” said George, " w'hich should
you say was the nearest way down ? ”

” The road to the left,” I replied, after consulting
the guide book, “ takes us to Sonnensteig — where,
by-the-by, I observe the ‘ Goldener Adler ' is well
spoken of — in about two hours. The rtxid to the
right, though somewhat longer, commands more
extensive prospects.”

” One prospect,” said Harris, “ is very much like
another prospect ; don’t you tliinJc so ? ”

” Personally,” said George, '* I am going by the
left-hand road.” And Harris and I went after him.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

209

But we were not to get down so soon as we had
anticipated. Storms come quickly in these regions,
and before we had walked for quarter of an hour it
became a question of seeking shelter or living for
the rest of the day in soaked clothes. We decided
on the former alternative, and selected a tree that,
under ordinary circumstances, should have been
ample protection. But a Black Forest thunder-
storm is not an ordinary circumstance. W'e
consoled ourselves at first by telling each other that
at such a rate it could not last long. Next, we
endeavoured to comfort ounselves witli the reflection
that if it did we should soon be too wet to fear
getting wetter.

“ As it turned out,” said Harris, " I should have
been almost glad if there had been a restaurant up
here.”

" I .see no advantage in being both wet and
hungry,” said George. “ I shall give it another five
minutes, (hen I am going on.”

” These mountain solitudes,” I remarked, ” are
very attractive in fine weather. On a rainy day,
csjiecially if you happen to be past the age when
>>

At this point there hailed us a voice, proceeding
from a stout gentleman, who stood some fifty feet
away from us under a big umbrella.

“ Won’t } ou come inside ? ” asked the stout
geatlenian.

“ Insiile where ? ” I called back. I thought at
first he was one of those fools that will try to be
funny when there is nothing to be funny about.

" Inside the restaurant, ” he answered.

We left our shelter and made for him. We wished
for further information about this thing.

210

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

" I did call to you from the window,” said the
stout gentleman, as we drew near to him, “ but I
suppose you did not hear me. This storm may last
for another hour ; you will get so wet.”

He was a kindly old gentleman ; he seemed quite
anxious about us.

I said : " It is very kind of you to have come out.
We are not lunatics. We have not been standing
under that tree for the last half-hour knowing all
the time there was a restaurant, hidden by the
trees, within twenty yards of us. We had no idea
we were anywhere near a restaurant.”

” I thought maybe you hadn’t,” said the old
gentleman ; ” that is why I came.”

It appeared that all the people in the inn had
been watching us from the windows also, wondering
why we stood there looking miserable. If it had
not been for this nice old gentleman the fools would
have remained watcliing us, I suppose, for the rest
of the afternoon. The landlord e.xcused himself by
saying he thought we looked like English. It is
no figure of speech. On the Continent they do
sincerely believe that ev&ry Englishman is mad.
They are as convinced of it as is every English
peasant that Frenchmen live on frogs. Even when
one makes a direct personal effort to disabuse them
of the impression one is not always successful.

It was a comfortable little restaurant, v/here
they' cooked well, while the Tischwein was really
most passable. We stopped there for a couple of
hours, and dried ourselves and fed ourselves, and
talked about the view ; and just before we left an
incident occurred that shows how much more
stirring in this world are the influences of evil
compared with those of good.

TitliEE MEN ON THE BUM]\fEL

211

«

A traveller entered. He seemed a careworn man.
He carried a brick in his hand, tied to a piece of
rope. He entered nervously and hurriedly, closed
the door carefully behind him, saw to it that it was

fastened, peered out of the window long and
earnestly, and tlicn, with a

sigh of relief, laid his brick upon
the bench beside him and called
for food and drink.

There was something mys-
terious about the whole affair.
One wondered what he was
going to do with the brick, why
he had closed the door so
cai'cfully, why he' had looked
so anxiously from the window ;
but his aspect wiis too wretched
to invite conversation, and we
forbore, therefore, to ask him
questions. As he ate and
drank he grew more cheerful,
sighed less often. Later he
stretched his legs, lit an evil-
smelling cigar, and puffed in
calm contentment.

Then it happened, ft hap-
pened too suddenly for any
detailed explanation of the
thing to be possible. I recollect
a Friiulein entering the room
from the kitchen with a pan
in her hand. I saw her cross to
the outer door. The next

moment the whole room was in A hrich tie l io a

an uproar. One was reminded

212

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

of those pantomime transformation scenes where,
from among floating clouds, slow miisic, waving
flowers, and I’eclining fairies, one is suddenly trans-
ported into the midst of shouting policemen tumbling
over yelling babies, swells fighting pantaloons,
sausages and harlequins, buttered slides and clowns.
As the Fraulein of the pan touched tlie door it flew
open, as though all the spirits of sin had been pressed
against it, waiting. Two pigs and a chicken rushed
into the room ; a cat that had been sleeping on a
beer-barrel spluttered into fiery life. The Friiulcin
threw her pan into the air and lay down on the
floor. The gentleman with the brick sprang to his
feet, upsetting the table before him with everything
upon it.

One looked to see the cause of this disaster : one
discovered it at once in the person of a mongrel
terrier with pointed ears and a squirrel’s tail.
The landlord rushed out from another door, and
attempted to kick him out of the room. Instead,
he kicked one of the pigs, the fatter of the two.
It was a vigorous, well-planted kick, and the pig
got the whole of it ; none of it was wasted. One
felt sorry for the poor animal ; but no amount of
sorrow anyone else might feel for him could
compare with the sorrow he felt for himself. He
stopped running about ; he sat down in the
middle of the room, and appealed to the solar
system generally to observe this unjust thing that
had come upon him. They must have heard his
complaint in the valleys round about, and h.ive
wondered what upheaval of nature was taking place
among the hills.

As for the hen it scuttled, screaming, every way
at once. It wai a marvellous bird : it seemed t<> be

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

213

able to run up a straight wall quite easily ; and it
and the cat between them fetched down mostly
everything that was not already on the floor. In
less than forty seconds there were nine people in
tlwt room, all trying to kick one dog. Possibly,
now and again, one or another may have succeeded,
for occasionally the dog would stop barking in order
to howl. But it did not discourage him. Everything
has to be paid for, he evidently argued, even a pig
and chick(m hunt ; and, on the whole, the game
was worth it.

Besides, he had the satisfaction of observing that,
for every kick he received, most other living things
in the room got two. As for the unfortunate pig —
the stationary one, the one that still sat lamenting
in the centre of the room — he must have averaged
a stead}' four. Trying to kick this dog was like
pla}'ing football with a ball that was never there —
not when you went to kick it, but after you had
started to kick it, and had gone too far to stop
yourself, so that the kick had to go on in any case,
your only hope being that your foot would find
something or another solid to stop it, and so save
you from s'tting down on the floor noisily and
completely When anybody did kick the dog it
was by [)ure accident, when they were not expecting
to kick him ; and, generally speaking, this took them
so unawares that, after kicking him, they fell over
him. And everybody, every half-minute, would be
certain to fall over the pig the sitting pig, the one
incapable of getting out of anybody’s way.

How long the scrimmage might have lasted it is
impossible to say. It was ended by the judgment
of George. For a while he had been seeking to
catch, not the dog but the remaining pig, the one

214 thki:e men on the bummel

still capable of activity. Cornering it at last, he
persuaded it to cease running round and round the
room, and instead to take a spin outside. It shot
through the door with one long wail.

We always desire tlie thing we have not. One pig,
a chicken, nine people, and a cat,_ were as nothing in
that dog's opinion compared wilh the quarry that
was disappearing. Unwisely, he darted after it, and
George closed the door upon him and sliot the bolt.

Then the landlord stood up, and surveyed all the
things that were lying on the floor.

“ That 's a playful dog of yours,” said he to the
man who had come in with the brick.

" He is not my dog,” replied the man sullenly.

“ Whose dog is it then ? ” said the landlord.

“ I don’t know whose dog it is,” answered the man.

" That won’t do for me, you know,” said the
landlord, picking up a picture of the German
Emperor, and wiping beer from it with his sleeve.

" I know it won’t,” replied the man ; " I never
expected it would. I ’m tired of telling people it
isn’t my dog. They none of them believe me.”

" W’hat do you want to go about with him for,
if he ’s not your dog ? ” said the landlord. “ Wh.at 's
the attraction about him ? ”

“ I don’t go about with him,” replied the man ;
“ he goes about with me. He picked me up this
morning at ten o’clock, and he won’t leave me.
I thought I had got rid of him when I came in here.
I left him busy killing a duck more than a quarter
of an hour away. I ’ll have to pay for that, I expect,
on my way back.”

" Have you tried throwing stones at him ? ” asked
Harris.

‘‘ Have I tried inrowmg stones at mm ! " replied

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

215

the man, contemptuously. “ I 've been throwing
stones at liim till my arm aches with throwing
stones ; and he thinks it ’s a game, and brings them
back to me. I 've been carrying this beastly brick
about with me for over an hour, in the hope of
being able to drown him, but he never comes near
enough for me to get hold of him. He just sits
six inches out of reach with his mouth open, and
looks at me.”

" It ’s the funniest story I ’v'^e heard for a long
while,” said the landlord.

” Cilad it amuses somebody,” said the man.

We left him helping the landlord to pick up the
bnjken things, and went our way. A dozen yards
outside the door the faithful animal was waiting foi
his friend. He looked tired, but contented. He
was evidently a dog of stra.nge and sudden fancies,
and we feared for tlie moment lest he might take
a liking to us. But he let us pass with indifference.
His loyalty to this unresponsive man was touching ;
and wc made no attempt to undermine it.

Having completed to our satisfaction the Black
Forest, wc journeyed on t)ur wheels through Alt
Breisach and Colmar to Miinster ; whence we
started a short exploration of tlie Vosges range,
where, according to the present Gonnan Emperor,
humanity stops. Of old, Alt Breisach, a rocky
fortress with the river now on one side of it and
now on the other — for in its inc.xperienced youth
the Rhine never seems to have been quite sure
of its way, — must, as a place of residence, have
appealed exclusively to the lover of change and
excitement. Whoever the war was between, and
whatever it was about, Alt Breisach was bound
to be in it. Everybody besieged it, most people

2x6

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

captured it ; the majority of them lost it again ;
nobody seemed able to keep it. Whom he belonged
to, and what he was, the dweller in Alt Breisach
could never have been quite sure. One day he
would be a Frenchman, and then before he could
learn enough French to pay his taxes he would be
an Austrian. While trying to discover what you
did in order to be a good Austrian, he would find he
was no longer an Austrian, but a German, though
what particular German out of the dozen mxist
always have been doubtful to him. One day he
would discover that he was a Catholic, the next an
ardent Protestant. The only thing that could have
given any stability to his existence must have been
the monotonous necessity of paying heavily for the
privilege of being whatever for the moment he was.
But when one begins to think of these things one
finds oneself wondering why anybody in the Middle
Ages, except kings and tax collectors, ever took the
trouble to live at aU.

For variety and beauty, the Vosges will not
compare with the hills of the Schwarzwald. The
advantage about them from the tourist’s point
of view is their superior poverty. The Vosges
peasant has not the unromantic air of contented
prosperity that spoils his vis-a-vis across the Rhine.
The villages and farms possess more the charm of
decay. Another point wherein the Vosges district
excels is its ruins. Many of its numerous castles
are perched where you might think only eagles
would care to build. In others, commenced by the
Romans and finished by the Troubadours, covering
acres with the maze of their still standing walls,
one may wander for hours.

The fruiterer and greengrocer is a person unknown

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

217

in the Vosges. Most tilings of that kind grow wild,
and are to be had for the picking. It is difficult to
keep to any programme when walking through the
Vosges, the temptation on a hot day to stop and
eat fniit generally being too strong for resistance.
Raspberries, the most delicious I have ever tasted,
wild strawberries, currants, and gooseberries, grow
upon the hill-sides as blackberries by English lanes.
The Vosges small boy is not called upon to rob
on orchard ; he can make himself iU without sin.
Orchards exist in the Vosges mountains in plenty ;
but to trespass into one for the purpose of stealing
fruit would be as foolish as for a fish to try and get
into a swimming bath without paying. Still, of
course, mistakes do occur.

One afternoon in the couise of a climb we emerged
upon a plateau, where we lingered perhaps too long,
eating more fruit than may have been good for us ;
it was so plentiful around us, so varied. VVe com-
menced with a few late strawberries, and from those
we passed to raspberries. Then Harris foimd a
greengage-tree with some early fruit upon it, just
perfect.

“ This is about the best thing we have struck,”
said George ; “ w’e had better make the most of
this.” Which was good advice, on the face of it.

" It is a pity,” said Harris, " that the pears are
still so hard.”

He grieved about this for a while, but later on
I came across some remarkably fine yellow plums
and these consoled him somewhat,

“ I suppose we are still a bit too far north for
pineapples,” said George. ” I feel I could just
enjoy a fresh pineapple. This commonplace fruit
palls uj)ou one after a while.”

218

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

“Too much bush fniit and not enough tree, is
the fault I find,” said Harris. " Myself, I should
have liked a few more greengages.”

" Here is a man coming up the hill,” I observed,
" who looks like a native. Maybe, he will know
where we can find some more greengages.”

“ He walks well for an old chap,” remarked
Harris.

He certainly was climbing the hill at a remarkable
pace. Also, so far as we were able to judge at that
distance, he appeared to be in a remarkably cheerful
mood, singing and shouting at the top of his voice,
gesticulating, and wavhng his amrs.

" What a merry old soul it is,” said Harris ; " it
does one good to watch him. But why does he
carry his stick over his shoulder ? Why doesn't
he use it to help him up the hill ? ”

“ Do you know, I don’t think it is a stick,” said
George.

“ What can it be, then ? ” asked Harris.

“ Well, it looks to me,” said George, “ more like
a gun.”

" You don’t think we can have made a mistake ? ”
suggested Harris. “ You don’t think this can be
anything in the nature of a private orchard ? ”

I said : “ Do you remember the sad thing that
happened in the South of France some two years
ago ? A soldier picked some cherries as he passed
a house, and the French peasant to whom the
cherries belonged came out, and without a word of
warning shot iiim dead.”

“ But surely you are not allowed to shoot a man
dead for picking fruit, even in France ? ” said
George.

“ Of course not,” I answered. “ It was quite

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

219

illegal. The only excuse offered by his counsel was
that he was of a highly excitable disposition, and
especially keen about these particular cherries.”

“ I recollect something about the case,” said
Harris, “ now you mention it. I believe the district
in which it happened — the ‘ Commune,’ as I think
it is called — had to pay heavy compensation to the
relatives of the deceased soldier ; which was only fair.”

George said : " I am tired of this place. Besides,
it ’s getting late.”

Harris said : ” If he goes at that rate he will fall
and hurt himself. Besides, I don't believe he
knows the way.”

I felt lonesome up there all by myself, with
nobody to speak to. Besides, not since I was a
boy, I reflected , liad 1 enjoyed a run down a really
steep hill. I thought I would .see if I could revive
the sensation. It is a jerky exercise, but good, I
shoulcl say, for the liver.

We .slept that night at Barr, a pleasant little
town on the way to St. Ottilienberg, an interesting
old convent among the mountains, where you are
waited upon by real nuns, and your bill made out
by a priest. At Barr, just before supper a tourist
entered. He looked English, but s])oko a language
the like of which I have never heard before. Yet
it was an elegant and line-sounding language. The
landlord stared at him blankly ; the landlady shook
her head. He sighed, and tried another, which
somehow rccalk-d to me forgotten memories,
though, at t!ie time, I could not fix it. But
again nobody understood him.

” This is damnable,” he said aloud to himself,

" Ah, you arc English ! ” exclaimed the landlord,
brightening up.

’20

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

" And Monsieur looks tired," added the bright
little landlady. “ Monsieur will have supper.’’

They both spoke English excellently, nearly as
well as they spoke French and German ; and they
bustled about and made him comfortable. At
supper he sat next to me, and 1 talked to him.

“ Tell me,” I said — I was curious on the subject
— " what language was it 3’ou spoke when you first
came in ? ’’

" German," he explained.

" Oh,” I replied, ” I beg your pardon.”

” You did not understand it ? ” he continued.

" It must have been my fault,” I answered ; “ my
knowledge is extremely limited. One picks up a
little here and there as one goes about, but of course
that is a different thing.”

“ But ikey did not understand it,” he replied, ” the
landlord and his wife ; and it is their own language.”

“ I do not think so,” I said. " The children
hereabout speak German, it is true, and our landlord
and landlady know German to a certain point. But
throughout Alsace and Lorraine the old people still
talk French.”

“ And I spoke to them in French also,” he added,
" and they understood that no better.”

" It is certainly very curious,” I agreed.

" It is more than curious,” he replied ; " in mj'
case it is incomprehensible. I possess a diploma
for modern languages. I won my scholarship
purely on the strength of mj'’ French and Gemian.
The correctness of my construction, the })urity of
my pronunciation, was considered at my college
to be quite remarkable. Yet, when I come abroad
hardly anybody understands a word I say. Can
you explain it ? "

THREE MEN ON THE HUMMEL

221

" I think I can,” I replied. “ Your pronunciation
is too faultless. Yon remember wliat the Scotsman
said when for the fic^t tone in his life he tasted real
whisky ; ‘ It may be puir, but I canna drink it ’ ;
so it is with your German. It strikes one less as a
language than as an exhibit. on. If I might offer
advicc, I sliould ^ay : Mispronounce as much as
possible, and tlirow in as many mistakes as you can
think of.”

It is the same everywhere. Each country keeps
a special pronuncialion exclusiv'ely for the use of
foreigners — a pronunciation they never dream of
using themselves, that they cannot understand when
it is used. I once heard an English lady explaining
to a Frenchman how to pronounce the word Have.

” You will pronounce it,” said the lady reproach-
fully, " as if it were spelt H-a-v. It isn’t. There
is an ‘ e ’ at the end.”

” But I thought,” said th.e pupil, ” that you did
not sound the ‘ e ’ at the end of h-a-v-e.”

” No more you do,” explained his teacher. ” It
is what we call a mute ‘ e ’ ; but it exercises a
modifying influence on the preceding vowel.”

Before that, he used to say ” have ” quite
inlelligciitly. Afterwards, when he came to the
word he would stop dead, collect his thoughts, and
give expression to a sound that only the context
could explain.

Putting aside the sufferings of the early martyrs,
few men, I suppose, have gone through more than
I myself went through in trying to attain the correct
pronunciation of the German word for church —
” Kirche.” Long before I had done with it I had
determined never to go to church in Germany,
rather than be bothered with it.

222

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

" No, no,” my teacher would explain — he was a
painstaking gentleman ; ” you say it as if it were

spelt K-i-r-c-h-k-e. There is no k. It is

And he would illustrate to me again, for the twentieth
time that moining, how it should be pronounced;
the sad thing being that I could never for the life
of me detect any difference between the way he
said it and the way I said it. So he would try a
new method.

” Yon say it from your throat,” he would explain.
He was quite right ; I did. “ I want you to say
it from down here,” and with a fat forefinger he
would indicate the region from where I was to
start. After painful efforts, resulting in sounds
suggestive of anything rather than a place of
worship, I would excuse myself.

” I re.ally fear it is impossible,” I would say.
“ You see, for years I have always talked with
my mouth, as it were ; I never knew a man could
talk with his stomach. I doubt if it is not too
late now for me to learn.”

By spending hours in dark comers, and practising
in silent streets, to the terror of chance passers-by,
I came at last to pronounce this word correctly.
My teacher was delighted with me, and until I
came to Germany I was pleased with myself. In
Germany I found that nobody understood what I
meant by it. I never got near a church with it.
I had to drop the correct pronunciation, and pains-
takingly go back to my first wrong pronunciation.
Then they would brighten up, and tell me it was
round the corner, or down the next street, as the
case might be.

I also think pronunciation of a foreign tongue
cculd be better taught than by demanding from

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEE 223

f

the those intemal acrobatic feats that are

generally impossible and always useless. This is
the sort of in^drurtion one receives :

Press your tonsils against the underside of
your larynx. Then with the conva^x part of the
septum curved upwards so as almost — but not
cpiite — to touch the uvula, try with the tip of your
tongue to reach your thyroid. Take a deep breath,
and compress ^Tnir glottis. Now, without opening
your li])s. say * (iaroo.'

And when you have done it they are not satisfied.

8

CHAPTER XIII

An examination into the character and behaviour of the
German student — The German Mensur — Uses and
abuses of use — Viercs of an impressionist — The
humour of the thing — Recipe for making savages—
The Jungfrau : her peculiar taste in faces— The
Kneipe — How to rub a Salamander — Advice to
the stranger — A story that might have ended
sadly — Of two men and two wives — Together with
a bachelor.

On our way home we iucludod a (xcrman University
town, being wishful to obtain an insiglit into the
ways of student life, a curiosity that the courtesy
of German friends cnablt;d us to gratify.

The English boy plays till he is fifteen, and works
thence till twenty. In Germany it is the child that
works : the young man that plays. The German
boy goes to school at seven o’clock in the summer,
at eight in the winter, and at school he studies. The
result is that at sixteen ho has a thorough knowledge
of the classics and mathematics, knows as much
history as any man compelled to belong to a
political party is wise in knowing, together with a
thorough grounding in modern languages. Therefore
his eight College Semesters, extending over four
years, are, except for the young man aiming at a
professorship, unnecessarily ample. He is not a
sportsman, which is a pity, for he should make a

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 225

good one. He plays football a little, bicycles still
less ; plays French billiards in stuffy cafes more.
But generally speaking he, or the majority of him,
lays out his time bummeling, beer drinking, and
fighting. If he be the son of a wealthy father he
joins a Korps — to belong to a crack Korps costs
about four hundred pounds a year. If he be a
middle-class young man, he enrols himself in a
Burschenschaft, or a Landsmannschaft, which is
still a little cheaper. These companies are again
broken up into smaller circles, in which attempt
is made to keep to nationality. There are the
Swabians, from Swabia ; the Frankonians, descend-
ants of the Franks ; the Thuringians, and so forth.
In practice, of course, this results as all such
attempts do result — I believe half our Gordon
Highlanders are Cockneys — but the picturesque
object is obtained of dividing each University into
some dozen or so separate companies of students,
each one with its distinctive cap and colours, and,
quite as important, its own particular beer hall,
into which no other student wearing his colours
may come.

The chief work of these student companies is to
fight among themselves, or with some rival Korps
or Schaft, the celebrated German Mensur.

The Mensur has been described so often and so
thoroughly that I do not intend to bore my readers
with any detailed account of it. I merely come
forward as an impressionist, and I write purposely
the impression of my first Mensur, because I believe
that first impressions are more true and useful
than opuiions blunted by intercourse, or shaped by
influence.

A Frenchman or a Spaniard will seek to persuade

226

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

you that the bull-ring is an institution got up chiefly
for the benefit of the bull. The horse which you
imagined to be screaming with pain was only
laughing at the comical appearance presented by its
own inside. Your French or Spanish friend contrasts
its glorious and exciting death in the ring with the
cold-blooded brutality of the knacker’s yard. If
you do not keep a tight liokl of your head, you
come away with the desire to start an agitation for
the incej)tion of the bull-ring in England as an aid
to chivaliy. No doubt Torquemada was convinced
of the humanity of the Inquisition. To a stout
gentleman, suffering, perha];s, from cramp or rheu-
matism, an hour or so on the rack was really a
phj’sical benefit. He would rise feeling more free
in his joints- -more elastic, as one might say, than
he had felt lor years. English huntsmen regard da-
fox as an animal to be envied. A day’s exceller-.
sport is provided for him fiee of charge, during
which he is the centre of attraction.

Use blinds one to (-veiything one does not wish
to see. ILvery third (ierman gentleman you meet
in the street still bears, and will bear to his grave,
marks of the twenty to a hundrerl duels he has
fought in his student days. The (Ierman children
play at the Mc-nsur in the nursery, rehearse it in the,
gymnasium. The Germans have come to persuade
themselves there is no brutality in it — nothing
offensive, nothing degrading. Their argument is
that it schools the German youth to coolness and
courage. If this could be proved, the argument,
particularly in a country where every man is a
soldier, w'ould be sufficiently one-sided. But is the
virtue of the prize-fighter the virtue of the soldier ?
One doubts it. Nerve and dash are surely of more

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL ^ 227

service in tlie field than a temperamen of un-
reasoning indifference as to what is happening to
one. As a matter of fact, the German student
would have to be possessed of much more courage
not to fight. He lights not to ple.ise himself, but
to satisfy a public opinion that is two hundred
years behind the times.

All the Mensur does is to brutalise him. There
may be skill displayed — 1 am told there is, — but it
is not apparent. The mere fighling is like nothing
so mud) as a broadsword combat at a Richardson’s
show ; the display as a whole a successful attempt
to combine the ludicrous with the unpleasant. In
aristocratic Bonn, where style is considered, and in
Heidelberg, where visitors from other nations are
more common, the affair is perhajxs more formal.
I am told that there the contrsls take j)!ace in
handsome rooms ; that grey-haired doctors wait
upon the wounded, and liveried servants upon the
hungry, and that the affair is conducted throughout
with a C( rtain amount of picturesque ceremony. In
the more essentially German Universities, where
strangers are rare and not much encouraged, the
simple essentials arc the only things kept in view,
and these are mit of an inviting nature.

Indeed, so distinctly uninviting arc they, that I
strongly advise the sensitive reader to avoid even
this description of them. The subject cannot be
made pretty, and I do not intend to tiy.

The room is bare and sordid ; its walls splashed
with mixed stains of beer, blood, and candle-grease ;
its ceiling, smoky ; its floor, sawdust covered. A
crowd of students, laughing, smoking, talking, some
sitting on the floor, others perched upon chair's and
benches, form the framework.

228

THREE MEN ON THE BlE.fMEL

7

I?" fe’il

In tlie centre, facing one another, stand the
combatants, rcsemlding Japanese warriors, as made
familiar to us by the Japanese tea-tray. Quaint
and rigid,
withtheir
goggle-

covered —

eyes,tlieir

necks tied up in comforters, '^vf

their bodies smothered in what H

looks like dirty bod quilts, their

padded arms stretched straiglit ,*4'/

above their heads, they mhdit be

a pair of ungainly clockwoik

figures. The seconds, also moia; yf.* ;V'

or less padded — their heads and , •'

faces protected by huge leather- i -'.f , f,'. W

peaked caps, — drag them out into

their proper position. One almost Vi'-ib l

listens to hear the sound of the

castors. The umpire takes his f \ ^

place, the word is givim, and ^[iM

immediately there follow livo Wm

rapid clashes of the long

straight swords. There is P/ ■‘t'aS

t. ■■

vi- Wi-' ' * ■ 1 1

no interest in watcliing ^

the fight : there is iu>

movement, no skill, no T^>c Cowan Dudisl.
grace (I am speaking <A

my own impressions.) The strongest man wins ;
the man who, with his heavily-padded ann, always
in an unnatural position, can hold his huge clum.sy
sword longest without growing too W(.‘ak to be
able either to guard or to strike.

The w'hole interest is centred in watcliing the

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 329

wounds. They come always in one of two places —
on the top of the head or the left side of the face.
Sometimes a portion of hairy scalp or section of
cheek flies up into the air, to be carefully preserved
in an envelope by its proud possessor, or, strictly
S’ieaking, its proud former possessor, and shown
round on convivial evenings ; and from every
wound, of coiuse, flows a plentiful stream of blood.
It splashes doctors, seconds, and spectators ; it
sprinkles ceiling and walls ; it saturates the fighters,
and makes pools for itself in the sawdust. At the
end of each round the doctors rush up, and with
hands already dripping with blood press together
the gaping wounds, dabbing them with little balls
of wet cotton wool, which an attendant carries
ready on a plate. Naturally, the moment the men
stand up again and commence work, the blood
gushes out again, half blinding them, and rendering
the ground beneath them slippery. Now and then
you see a man’s teeth laid bare almost to the ear,
so that for the rest of the duel he appears to be
grinning at one half of the spectators, his other
side remaining serious ; and sometimes a man’s
nose gets slit, which gives to him as he fights a
singularly supercilious air.

As the object of each studeiit is to go away from
the University bearing as many scars as possible,
I doubt if any particular pains are taken to guard,
even to the small extent such method of fighting
can allow. The real victor is he who comes out
with the greatest number of wounds ; he who then,
stitched and patched almost to unrecognition as a
human being, can promenade for the next month,
the envy of the German j'^outh, the admiration
of the German maiden. He who obtains only

230

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

a few unimportant wounds retires sulky and
disappointed.

But the actual fighting is only the beginning of
the fun. The second act of the spectacle takes
place in the dressing-room. The doctors are
generally mere medical students — young fellows
who, having taken their degree, are anxious for
practice. Truth compels me to say that those with
whom I came in contact were coarse-looking men
who seemed rather to relish their work. Perhaps
they are not to be blamed for this. It is part of
the system that as much further punishment as
possible must be inflicted by the doctor, and the
ideal medical man might hardly care for such job.
How the student bears the dressing of his wounds
is as important as how he receives them. Every
operation has to be performed as brutally as may
be, and his companions carefully watch him during
the process to see that he goes through it with an
appearance of peace and enjoyment. A clean-cut
wound that gapes wide is most desired by all
parties. On purpose it is sewn up clumsily, with the
hope that by this means the scar will last a lifetime.
Such a wound, judiciously mauled and interfered
with during the week afterwards, can generally be
reckoned on to secure its fortunate possessor a
wife with a dowry of five figures at the least.

These are the general bi-weekly Mensurs, of
which the average student fights some dozen a
year. There are others to which visitors are not
admitted. When a student is considered to have
disgraced himself by some slight involuntary move-
ment -of the head or body while fighting, then he
can only regain his position by standing up to the
best swordsman in his Korps. He demands and

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

2'^1

is accorded, not a contest, but a punishment. His
opponent then proceeds to inflict as many and as
bloody wounds as can be taken. The object of the
victim is to show his comrades that he can stand
still while his head is half sliced from his skull.

Whether anything can properly be said in favour
of the German IMensur I am doubtful ; but if so
it concerns only the two combatants. Upon the
spectators it can and does, I am convinced, exercise
nothing but evil. I know myself sufficiently well
to be sure T am not of an unusually bloodthirsty
disposition. The effect it h.ad upon me can only be
the usual effect. At first, before the actual work
commenced, my sensation was curiosity mingled
with anxiety as to how the sight would trouble me,
though some slight acquaintance with dissecting-
rooms and operating tables left me less doubt on
that point than I might otherwise have felt. As
the blood began to flow, and nerves and muscles to
be laid bare, I experienced a mingling of disgust
and pity. But with the second duel, I must confess,
my finer feelings began to disappear ; and by the
time the third was well upon its way, and the
room heavy with the curious hot odour of blood,
I began, as the American expression is, to see
things red,

I wanted more. I looked from face to face sur-
rounding me, and in most of them I found reflected
undoubtedly my own sensations. If it be a good
thing to excite this blood tliirst in the modern man,
then the Mensur is a useful institution. But is it a
good thing ? We prate about our civilisation and
humanity, but those of us who do not carry hypocrisy
to the length of self-deception know that underneath
our starched shirts there lurks the savage, with all

8 *

232 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

his savage instincts untouched. Occasionally he
may be wanted, but we never need fear his dying
out. On the other hand, it seems unwise to over-
nourish him.

In favour of the duel, seriously considered, there
are many points to be urged. But the Mensur
serves no good purpose whatever. It is childishness,
and the fact of its being a cniel and brutal game
makes it none the less childish. Wounds have no
intrinsic value of their own ; it is the cause that
dignifies them, not their size. William Tell is
rightly one of the heroes of the world ; but what
should we think of the members of a club of fathers,
formed with the object of meeting twice a week to
shoot apples from their sons' heads with cross-bows ?
These young German gentlemen could obtain all
the results of which they are so proud by teasing a
\vild cat ! To join a society for the mere purpose of
getting yourself hacked about reduces a man to the
intellectual level of a dancing Dervish. Travellers
tell us of savages in Central Africa who express
their feelings on festive occasions by jumping about
and slashing themselves. But there is no need for
Europe to imitate them. The Mensur is, in fact,
the reductio ad ahsurdum of the duel ; and if the
Gennans themselves cannot see that it is funny,
one can only regret their lack of humour.

But though one may be unable to agree with the
public opinion that supports and commands the
Mensur, it at least is possible to understand. The
University code that, if it does not encourage it,
at least condones drunkenness, is more difficult to
treat argumentatively. All German students do not
get drunk ; in fact, the majority are sober, if not
industrious. But the minority, whose claim to be

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

representative is freely admitted, are only saved
frcm perpetual inebriety by ability, acquired at some
cost, to swUl half the day and all the night, while
retaining to some extent their five senses. It does
not affect all alike, but it is common in any University
town to see a young man not yet twenty with
the figure of a Falstaff and the complexion of a
Rubens Bacchus. That the German maiden can be
fascinated with a face, cut and gashed till it suggests
having been made out of odd materials that never
could have fitted, is a proved fact. But surely there
can be no attraction about a blotched and bloated
skin and a “ bay window " thrown out to an extent
threatening to overbalance the whole structure.
Yet what else can be expected, when the youngster
starts his beer-drinking with a " Fruhschoppen ” at
10 a.m., and closes it with a " Kneipe ” at four in
the morning ?

The Kneipe is what we should call a stag party,
and can be very harmless or very rowdy, according
to its composition. One man invites his fellow-
students, a dozen or a hundred, to a caf^, and
provides them with as much beer and as many
cheap cigars as their own sense of health and
comfort may dictate, or the host may be the
Korps itself. Here, as everywhere, you observe
the German sense of discipline and order. As each
new comer enters all those sitting round the table
rise, and with heels close together salute. When
the table is complete, a chairman is chosen, whose
duty it is to give out the number of the songs.
Prmted lx>oks of these songs, one to each two men,
lie round the table. The chairman gives out number
twenty-nine. " First verse,” he cries., and away
all go, each two men holding a book between them

234 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

c

exactly as two people might hold a hymn-book in
church. There is a pause at the end of each verse
until the chairman starts the company on the next.
As every German is a trained singer, and as most oi
them have fair voices, the general effect is striking.

Although the manner may be suggestive of the
singing of hymns in church, the words of the songs
are occasionally such as to correct this impression.
But whether it be a patriotic song, a sentimental
ballad, or a ditty of a nature that would shock the
average young Englishman, all are sung through
with stern earnestness, without a laugh, without
a false note. At the end, the chairman calls
“ Prosit ! ” Everyone answers “ Prosit ! ” and the
next moment every glass is empty. The pianist
rises and bows, and is bowed to in return ; and
then the Fraulein enters to refill the glasses.

Between the songs, toasts are proposed and
responded to ; but there is little cheering, and less
laughter. Smiles and grave nods of approval are
considered as more seeming among German
students.

A particular toast, called a Salamander, accorded
to some guest as a special distinction, is drunk
with exceptional solemnity.

" We will now,” says the chairman, ” a Salamander
rub ” (” Einen Salamander reiben ”). We all rise,
and stand like a regiment at attention.

" Is the stuff prepared ? ” (” Sind die stoffe

parat ? ”) demands the chairman.

" Sunt,” we answer, with one voice.

“ Ad exercitium Salamandri,” says the chairman,
and we are ready.

” Eins ! ' We rub our glasses with a circular
motion on the table.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 235

" Zwei ! " Again the glasses growl ; also at
" Drei ! ”

" Drink ! ” (" Bibite ! ”),

And with mechanical unison every glass is
emptied and held on high.

“ Eins ! ” says the chairman. The foot of every
empty glass twirls upon the table, producing a
sound as of the dragging back of a stony beach
by a receding wave.

" Zwei ! ” The roll swells and sinks again.

“ Drei ! ” The glasses strike the table wdth a
single crash, and we are in our seats again.

The sport at the Kneipe is for two students to
insult each other (in play, of course), and to then
challenge each other to a drinking duel. An umpire
is appointed,*two huge glasses are filled, and the
men sit opposite each other with their hands upon
the handles, all eyes fixed upon them. The umpire
gives the word to go, and in an instant the beer is
gurgling down their throats. The man who bangs
his perfectly finished glass upon the table first is
victor.

Strangers who are going through a Kneipe, and
who wish to do the thing in German style, \vill do
well, before commencing proceedings, to pin their
name and address upon their coats. The German
student is courtesy itself, and whatever his own
state may be, he will see to it that, by some means
or another, his guest gets safely home before the
morning But, of course, he cannot be expected to
remember addresses.

A story was told me of three guests to a Berlin
Kneipe which might have had tragic results. The
strangers determined to do the thing thoroughly.
They explained their intention, and were applauded.

236 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

and each proceeded to write his address upon his
card, and pin it to the tablecloth in front of him.
That was the mistake they made. They should, as
I have advised, have pinned it carefully to their
coats. A man may change his place at a table, quite
unconsciously he may come out the other side of it ;
but wherever he goes he takes his coat with him.

Some time in the small hours, the chairman
suggested that to make things more comfortable
for those still upright, all the gentlemen unable to
keep their heads off the table should be sent home.
Among those to whom the proceedings had become
uninteresting were the three Englishmen. It was
decided to put them into a cab in charge of a com-
paratively speaking sober student, and return them.
Had they retained their original seats throughout
the evening all would have been well ; but, unfor-
tunately, they had gone walking about, and which
gentleman belonged to which card nobody knew —
least of all the guests themselves. In the then state
of general cheerfulness, this did not to anybody
appear to much matter. There were three gentlemen
and three addresses. I suppose the idea was that
even if a mistake were made, the parties could be
sorted out in the morning. Anyhow, the three
gentlemen were put into a cab, the comparatively
speaking sober student took the three cards in his
hand, and the party started amid the cheers and
good wishes of the company.

There is this advantage about German beer : it
does not make a man drunk as the word drunk is
understood in England. There is nothing objection-
able about him ; he is simply tired. He does not
want to talk ; he wants to be let alone, to go to
•leep ; it does not matter where — anywhere.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 237

The conductor of the party stopped his cab at
the nearest address. He took out his worst case ;
it was a natural instinct to get rid of that first.
He and the cabman carried it upstairs, and rang
the bell of the Pension. A sleepy porter answered
it. They carried their burden in, and looked for a
place to drop it. A bedroom door happened to be
open ; the room was empty ; could anything be
better ? — they took it in there. They relieved it of
such things as came off easily, and laid it in the bed.
This done, both men, pleased with themselves,
returned to the cab.

At the next address they stopped again. This
time, in answer to their summons, a lady appeared,
dressed in a teagown, with a book in her hand.
The German student looked at the top one of

238 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

two caMs remaining in his hand, and enquired if
lie had the pleasure of addressing Frau Y. It
happened that he had, though so far as any pleasure
was concerned that appeared to be entirely on his
side. He explained to Frau Y. that the gentleman
at that moment asleep against the wall was her
husband. The reunion moved her to no enthusiasm ;
she simply opened the bedroom door, and then
walked away. The cabman and the student took
him in, and laid him on the bed. They did not
trouble to undress him ; they were feeling tired !
They did not see the lady of the house again, and
retired therefore without adieus.

The last card was that of a bachelor stopping at
an hotel. They look their last man, therefore, to
that hotel, passed him over to the night porter, and
left him.

To rclum to the addre.ss at which the first
delivery was made, what had hajipened there was
this. Some eight hours previously had said Mr. X.
to Mrs. X. : “I think I told you, my dear, that I
had an invitation for this evening to what, I believe,
is called a Kneipe ? ”

" You did mention something of the sort,” replied
Mrs. X. ” What is a Kneipe ? ''

“ Well, it ’s a sort of bachelor party, my dear,
where the students meet to sing and talk and — and
smoke, and all that sort of thing, you know.”

“ Oh, well, I hope you will enjoy yourself ! ” said
Mrs. X., who was a nice woman and sensible.

" It will be interesting,” observed Mr. X. ” I
have often had a curiosity to see one. I may,”
continued Mr. X., — " I mean it is possible, that I
may be home a little late.”

” What do you call late ? ” asked Mrs. X.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 239

“ It is somewhat difficult to say,” returned
Mr. X. “ You see these students, they are a wild

lot, and when they get together And then,

I believe, a good many toasts are drunk. I don’t
know how it will affect me. If I can see an
opportunity I shall come away early, that is if I can
do so without giving offence ; but if not ”

Said Mrs. X., who, as I remarked before, was a
sensible woman : “You had better get the people
here to lend jmu a latchkey. I shall sleep with
Dolly, and then you won’t disturb me whatever
time it may be.”

“ I think that an e.xcellent idea of yours,” agreed
Mr. X. “ I should hate disturbing you. I shall
just come in quietly, and slip into bed.”

Some time in the middle of the night, or maybe
towards the early morning, Dolly, who was Mrs. X.'s
sister, sat up in bed and listened.

“ Jenny,” said Dolly, “ are you awake 1 ”

“ Yes, dear,” answered Mrs. X. " It 's all right.
You go to sleep again.”

“ But whatever is it ? ” asked Dolly. “ Do you
think it 's fire ? ”

“ I exiiect,” replied Mrs. X., “ that it -s Percy.
Very possibly he has stumbled over something in
the dark. Don’t you worry, dear ; you go to
sleep.”

But so soon as Dolly had dozed off again, Mrs. X.,
who was a good wife, thought she would steal off
softly and see to it that Percy was all right. So,
putting on a dressing-gown and slippers, she crept
along the passage and into her own room. To
awake the gentleman on the bed would have required
an earthquake. She lit a candle and stole over to
the bedside

240 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

«

It was not' Percy ; it was not anyone like Percy.
She felt it was not the man that ever could have
been her husband, under any circumstances. In his
present condition her sentiment towards him was
that of positive dislike. Her only desire was to get
rid of him.

- But something there was about him which seemed
familiar to her. She went nearer, and took a closer
view. Then she remembered. ’ Surely it was Mr. Y.,
a gentleman at whose flat she and Percy had dined
the day they first arrived in Berlin.

But what was he doing here ? She put the
candle on the table, and taking her head between
her hands sat down to think. The explanation of
the thing came to her with a rush. It was with this
Mr. Y. that Percy had gone to the Kneipe. A
mistake had been made. Mr. Y. had been brought
back to Percy’s address. Percy at this very
moment

The terrible possibilities of the situation swam
before her. Returning to Dolly's room, she dressed
herself hastily, and silently crept downstairs.
Finding, fortunately, a passing night-cab, she drove
to the address of Mrs. Y. Telling the man to wait,
she flew upstairs and rang persistently at the bell.
It was opened as before by Mrs. Y., still in her
tea-gown, and with her book still in her hand.

“ Mrs. X. ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Y. " Whatever
brings you here ? ”

" My husband I ” was all poor Mrs. X. coiild
think to say at the moment, " is he here ? ”

" Mrs. X.,” returned Mrs. Y., drawing herself up
to her full height, " how dare you ? ”

" Oh, please don't misunderstand me 1 ” pleaded
Mrs. X. “ It 's all a terrible mistake. They must

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

841

nave brought poor Percy here instead of to our
place, I 'm sure they must. Do please look and
see.

“ My dear,” said Mrs. Y., who was a much older
woman, and more motherly, " don’t excite yourself.
They brought him here about half an hour ago, and,
to tell you the truth, I never looked at him. He is
in here. I don’t think they troubled to take off
even his boots. If you keep cool, we will get him
downstairs and home without a soul beyond our-
selves being any the wiser.

Indeed, Mrs. Y. seemed quite eager to help
Mrs. X.

She pushed open the door, and Mrs. X. went in.
The next moment she came out with a white,
scared face.

“ It isn’t Percy,” she said. ” Whatever am I
to do ? ”

” I wish you wouldn’t make these mistakes,” said
Mrs. Y., moving to enter the room herself.

Mrs. X. stopped her. ” And it isn’t your husband
either.”

" Nonsense,” said Mrs. Y.

” It isn’t really,” persisted Mrs. X. ” I know,
because I have just left him, asleep on Percy's bed.”

” What ’s he doing there ? ” thundered Mrs. Y.

” They brought him there, and put him there,”
explained Mrs. X., beginning to cry. “ That ’s
what made me think Percy must be here.”

The two women stood and looked at one another ;
and there was silence for awhile, broken only by
the snoring of the gentleman the other side of the
half-open door.

” Then who is that, in there ? ” demanded
Mrs. Y., who was the first to recover herself.

242 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

I

" I don’t know,” answered Mrs. X., ” I have
never seen him before. Do you think it is anybody
you know ? ”

But Mrs. Y. only banged to the door.

” What are we to do ? ” said Mrs. X.

” I know what I am going to do,” said
Mrs. Y. ” I 'm coming back with you to fetch
my husband.”

” He 's very sleepy,” explained Mrs. X.

” I ’ve known him to be that before,” replied
Mrs. Y., as she fastened on her cloak.

" But where 's Percy ? ” sobbed poor little Mrs. X.,
as they descended the stairs together.

" That, my dear,” said Mrs. Y., ” will be a question
for you to ask him.”

” If they go about making mistakes like this,”
said Mrs. X., ” it is impossible to say what they
may not have done with him.”

” We will make enquiries in the morning, my
dear,” said Mrs. Y., consolingly.

” I think these Kneipes are disgraceful affairs,”
said Mrs. X. ” I shall never let Percy go to another,
never — so long as I live.”

” My dear,” remarked Mrs. Y., “ if you know
your duty, he will never want to.” And rumour
has it that he never did.

But, as I have said, the mistake was in pinning
the card to the tablecloth instead of to the coat.
And error in this world is always severely punished.

CHAPTER XIV

Which is serious : as becomes a farting chapter — The
German from the Anglo-Saxon’ s point of view —
Providence in buttons and a helmet — Paradise of
the helpless idiot— German conscience: its aggres-
siveness — How they hang in Germany, very fossibly
— What happens to good Germans ivhcn they die ^ —
The military instinct: is it all-sufficient? — The
German as a shopkeeper — How he supports life —
The Neio Woman, here as everywhere— What can
be said against the Germans, as a people -The
Bummel is over and done.

“Anybody could rule this country/’ said George;
"I could rule it.”

We were seated in the garden of the Kaiser Hof
at Bonn, looking down uj)on the Rhine. It was the
last evening of our Bummel ; the early morning
train would be the beginning of the end.

“ I should write down all I wanted the people to
do on a piece of paper,” continued George ; “ get a
good firm to print off so many copies, have them
posted about the towns and villages ; and the thing
would be done.

In the placid, docile German of tD-day, whose
only ambition appears to be to pay his taxes, and do
what he is told to do by those whom it has pleased
Providence to place in authority over him, it is
difficult, one must confess, to detect any trace of hi.s

244

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

wild ancestor, to whom individual liberty was as the
breath of his nostrils ; who appointed his magistrates
to advise, but retained the right of execution for
the tribe ; who followed his chief, but would have
scorned to obey him. In Germany to-day one
hears a good deal concerning Socialism, but it is
a Socialism that would only be despotism under
another name. Individualism makes no appeal to
che German voter. He is willing, nay, anxious, to
be controlled and regulated in all things. He
disputes, not government, but the form of it. The
policeman is to him a religion, and, one feels, will
always remain so. In England we regard our man
in blue as a harmless necessity. By the average
citizen he is employed chiefly as a signpost, though
in busy quarters of the town he is considered useful
for taking old ladies across the road. Beyond feeling
thankful to him for these services, I doubt if we take
much thought of him. In Germany, on the other
hand, he is worshipped as a little god and loved as
a guardian angel. To the German child he is a
combination of Santa Claus and the Bogie Man. All
good things come from him : Spielplatze to play in,
furnished with swings and giant-strides, sand heaps
to fight around, swimming baths, and fairs. All
misbehaviour is punished by him. It is the hope of
every well-meaning German boy and girl to please
the police. To be smiled at by a policeman makes
it conceited. A German child that has been patted
on the head by a policeman is not fit to live with ;
its self-importance is unbearable.

The German citizen is a soldier, and the policeman
is his officer. The policeman directs him where in
the street to walk, and how fast to walk. At the
end of each bridge stands a policeman to tell the

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

245

German how to cross it. Were there no policeman

there, he would probably sit dowTi and wait till the

river had passed b\^ At the railway station the

policeman locks him up

in the waiting-room, K

where he can do no harm F

to himself. When the ^

proper time arrives, he

fetches him out and 0^

hands him over to the >5^

guard of the train, who

is only a policeman in

another uniform. The |l‘ ’ I

guard tells him whore \

to sit m the tram, and f

when to get out, and / |

sees that he docs get Ii \ |f /

out. In Germany you

take no responsibility

upon yourself whatever. w

Everything is done for I VVi

m

\ m

tw

Everything is done for |

you, and done well. |\\ -jy^

You are not supposed Va' V' iM

to look after yourself ; / x

you are not blamed for i )/

being incapable of look- Vff M -

mg after yourself ; it is |j

the duty of the German ^

policeman to look after ^

you. That vou may be , •

a helpless idiot does not ^ police, nan.

excuse him should any- ^

thing happen to you. Wherever you are and whatever
you are doing you are in his charge, and he takes care
of you — good care of you ; there is no denying this.

The German child that is
Rafted by a policeman.

246 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

0

If you lose yourself, he finds you ; and if you lose
anything belonging to you, he recovers it for you.
If you don’t know what you want, he tells you. If
you want anything that is good for you to have, he
gets it for you. Private lawyers are not needed in
Germany. If you want to biiy or sell a house or
field, the State makes out the conveyance. If you
have been swindled, the State takes up the case for
you. The State marries you, insures you, will even
gamble with you for a trifle.

" You get yourself born,” saj^s the German
Government to the German citizen, “ we do the
rest. Indoors and out of doors, in sickness and in
health, in pleasure and in work, we will tell you
what to do, and we will see to it that you do it.
Don’t you worry yourself about anything.”

And the German doesn’t. Where there is no
policeman to be found, he wanders about till he
comes to a police notice posted on a wall. This he
reads ; then he goes and dues what it says.

I remember in one German town — I forget which ;
it is immaterial ; the incident could have happened
in any — noticing an open gate leading to a garden
in which a concert was being given. There was
nothing to prevent anyone who chose from walking
through that gate, and thus gaining admittance to
the concert without paying. In fact, of the two
gates quarter of a mile apart it was the more
convenient Yet of the crowds that passed, not one
attempted to enter by that gate. They plodded
steadily on under a blazing sun to the other gate, at
which a man stood to collect the entrance money.
I have seen German youngsters stand longingly by
the margin of a lonely sheet of ice. They could
have skated on that ice for hours, and nobody have

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 247

been the wiser. The crowd and the police were at
the other end, more than half a mile away, and
round the corner. Nothing stopped their going on
but the knowledge that they ought not. Things
such as these make one pause to seriously wonder
whether the Teuton be a member of the sinful
human family or not. Is it not possible that these
placid, gentle folk may in reality be angels, come
down to earth for the sake of a glass of beer, which,
as they must know, can only in Germany be obtained
worth the drinking ?

In Germany the country roads are lined with
fruit trees. There is no voice to stay man or boy
from picking and eating the fruit, except conscience.
In England such a state of things would cause
public indignation. Children would die of cholera
by the hundred. The medical profession would be
worked off its logs tr3’ing to cope with the natural
results of over-indulgence in sour apples and unripe
walnuts. Public opinion would demand that these
fruit trees should be fenced about, and thus rendered
harmless. Fruit growers, to save themselves the
expense of walls and palings, would not be allowed
in this manner to spread sickness and death
throughout the community.

But in Germany a boy will walk for miles down
a lonelj'^ road, hedged with fruit trees, to buy a
pennyworth of pears in the village at the other end.
To pass these unprotected fruit trees, drooping
under their burden of ripe fruit, strikes the Anglo-
Saxon mind as a wicked waste of opportunity, a
flouting of the blessed gifts of Providence.

I do not know if it be so, but from what I have
observed of the German character I should not be
surprised to hear that when a man in Germany is

448 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

f ,

condemned to death he is given a piece of rope,
and told to go and hang himself. It would save
the State much trouble and expense, and I can
see that German criminal taking that piece of rope
home with him, reading up carefully the police
instructions, and proceeding to carry them out in
his own back kitchen.

The Germans are a good people. On the whole,
the best people perhaps in the world ; an amiable,
imselfish, kindly people. I am positive that the vast
majority of them go to Heaven. Indeed, comparing
them with the other Christian nations of the earth,
one is forced to the conclusion that Heaven will be
chiefly of German manufacture. But I cannot
understand how they get there. That the soul of
any single individual German has sufficient initiative
to fly up by itself and knock at St. Peter's door, I
cannot believe. My own opinion is that they are
taken there in small companies, and passed in under
the charge of a dead policeman.

Carlyle said of the Pnissians, and it is true of the
whole German nation, that one of their chief virtues
was their power of being drilled. Of the Germans
you might say they are a people who will go any-
where, and do anything, they are told. Drill him
for the work and send him out to Africa or Asia under
charge of somebody in uniform, and he is bound
to make an excellent colonist, facing difficulties as
he would face the devil himself, if ordered. But it
is not easy to conceive of him as a pioneer. Left
to run himself, one feels he would soon fade away
and die, not from any lack of intelligence, but from
sheer want of presumption.

The German has so long been the soldier of
Europe, that the military instinct has entered into

250 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

his blood. The military virtues he possesses in
abundance ; but he also suffers from the drawbacks
of the military training. It was told me of a
German servant, lately released from the barracks,
that he was instructed by his master to deliver a
letter to a certain house, and to wait there for the
answer. The hours passed by, and the man did not
return. His master, anxious and surprised, followed.
He found the man where he had been sent, the
answer in his hand. He was waiting for further
orders. The story sounds exaggerated, but personally
I can credit it.

The curious thing is that the same man, who as
an individual is as helpless as a child, becomes,
the moment he puts on the uniform, an intelligent
being, capable of responsibility and initiative. The
German can rule others, and be ruled by others, but
he cannot rule himself. The cure would appear to
be to train every German for an officer, and then
put him under himself. It is certain he would order
Iiimself about with discretion and judgment, and see
to it that he himself obeyed himself with smartness
and precision.

For the direction of German character into these
channels, the schools, of course, are chiefly resjion-
sible. Their everlasting teaching is duty. It is a
fine ideal for any people ; but before buckling to it,
one would wish to have a clear understanding as
to what this “ duty ” is. The German idea of it
would appear to be : “ blind obedience to everything
in buttons.” It is the antithesis of the Anglo-Saxon
scheme ; but as both the A^lo-Saxon and the
Teuton are prospering, there iIRst be good in both
methods. Hitherto, the German has had the blessed
fortune to be exceptionally well governed ; if this

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 351

•

continue., it will go well with him. When his
troubles will begin will be when by any chance
something goes wrong with the governing machine.
But maybe his method has the advantage of pro-
ducing a continuous supply of good governors ;
it would certainly seem so.

As a trader, I am inclined to think the German
will, unless his temperament considerably change,
remain always a long way behind his Anglo-Saxon
competitor ; and this by reason of his virtues. To
him life is something more important than a mere
race for wealth. A country that closes its banks
and post-offices for two liours in the middle of the
day, while it goes home and enjoys a comfortable
meal in the bosom of its family, with, perhaps, forty
winks by way of dessert, cannot hope, and possibly
has no wish, to compete with a people that takes
its meals standing, and sleeps with a telephone
over its bed. In Germany there is not, at all
events as yet, sufficient distinction between the
classes to make the struggle for position the life
and death affair it is in England. Beyond the
landed aristocracy, whose boundaries are impreg-
nable, grade hardly counts. Frau Professor and
Frau Candlestickmaker meet at the weekly Kaffee-
Klatsch and exchange scandal on terms of mutual
equality. The livery-stable keeper and the doctor
hobnob together at their favourite beer hall. The
wealthy master builder, when he prepares his roomy
waggon for an excursion into the country, invites his
foreman and his tailor to join him with their families.
Each brings his share of drink and provisions, and
returning home they sing in chorus the same songs.
So long as this ‘^tate of things endures, a man is not
induced to sacnfic? the best years of his life to wiij

252 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

«

a fortune for his dotage. His tastes, and, more to
the point still, his wife’s, remain inexpensive. He
likes to see his flat or villa furnished with much red
plush upholstery and a profusion of gilt and lacquer.
But that is his idea ; and maybe it is in no worse
taste than is a mixture of bastard Elizabethan with
imitation Louis XV, the whole lit by electric light,
and smothered with photographs. Possibly, he will
have his outer walls painted by the local artist : a
sanguinary battle, a good deal interfered with
by the front door, taking place below, while
Bismarck, as an angel, flutters vaguely about
the bedroom windows. But for his Old Masters
he is quite content to go to the public galleries ;
and “ the Celebrity at Home ” not having as
yet taken its place amongst the institutions
of the Fatherland, he is not impelled to waste
his money turning his house into an old curiosity
shop.

The German is a gourmand. There are still
English farmers who, while telling you that farming
spells starvation, enjoy their seven solid meals a
day. Once a year there comes a week’s feast
throughout Russia, during which many deaths occur
from the over-eating of pancakes ; but this is a
religious festival, and an exception. Taking him
all round, the German as a trenchennan stands
pre-eminent among the nations of the earth. He
rises early, and whUe dressing tosses off a few cups of
coffee, together with half a dozen hot buttered rolls.
But it is not until ten o’clock that he sits down to
anything that can properly be called a meal At
one or half -past takes place his chief dinner. Of
this he makes a business, sitting at it for a couple
of hours. At four o'clock he goes to the caf4.

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL 253

>

and eates cakes and drinks chocolate. The evening
he devotes to eating generally— not a set meal,
or rarely, but a series of snacks, — a bottle of
beer and a Belegete-semmel or two at seven,
say ; another bottle of beer and an Aufschnitt
at the theatre between the acts ; a small bottle
of white wine and a Spiegeleier before going
home ; then a piece of cheese or sausage, washed
down by more beer, previous to turning in for
the night.

But he is no gourmet. French cooks and French
prices are not the rule at his restaurant. His beer
or his inexpensive native white wine he prefers to the
most costly clarets or champagnes. And, indeed,
it is well for him he does ; for one is inclined to
think that every time a French grower sells a bottle
of wine to a German hotel- or shop-keeper, Sedan is
rankling in his mind. It is a foolish revenge, seeing
that it is not the German who as a rule drinks it ;
the punishment falls upon some innocent travelling
Englishman. Maybe, however, tlie French dealer
remembers also Waterloo, and feels that in any
event he scores.

In Germany expensive entertainments are neither
offered nor expected. Everything throughout the
Fatherland is homely and friendly. The German
has no costly sports to pay for, no shoAvy establish-
ment to maintain, no purse-proud circle to dress
for. His chief pleasure, a seat at the opera or
concert, can be had for a few marks ; and his wife
and daughters walk there in home-made dresses,
with shawls over their heads. Indeed, throughout
the country the absence of all ostentation is tc
English eyes quite refreshing. Private carriages
are few and far between, and even tlie droschke is

254 THREE MEN ON THE BUMRIEL

made use of only when the quicker and cleaner
electric car is not available.

By such means the German retains his independ-
ence, The shopkeeper in Germany docs not fawn
upon his customers. I accompanied an English
lady once on a shopping excursion in Munich. She
had been accustomed to shopping in London and
New York, and she grumbled at everything the
man showed her. It was not that she was really
dissatisfied ; this was her method. She explained
that she could get most things cheaper and better
elsewhere ; not that she really thought she could,
merely she held it good for the shopkeeper to say
this. She told him that his stock lacked taste —
she did not mean to be offensive ; as I have
explained, it was her method ; — tliat tlicre was
no variety about it ; that it was not up to date ;
that it was commonplace ; that it looked as if
it would not wear. He did not argue with her ;
he did not contradict her. He put the things
back into their respective boxes, replaced the
boxes on their respective shelves, walked into
the little parlour behind the shop, and closed the
door.

" Isn’t he ever coming back ? ” asked the lady,
after a couple of minutes had elapsed.

Her tone did not imply a question so much as
an exclamation of mere impatience.

" I doubt it,” I replied.

” Why not ? ” she asked, much astonished.

" I expect,” I answered, ” you have bored him.
In all probability he is at this moment behind
that door smoking a pipe and reading the
paper.”

“ What an extraordinary shopkeeper 1 ” said my

THREE MENT ON THE BUMMEL 255

*

friend, as she gathered her parcels together and
indignantly walked out.

" It is their way,” I explained. “ There are the
goods ; if you want them, you can have them. If
you do not want them, they would almost rather
that you did not come and talk about them.”

On another occasion I listened in the smoke-room
of a German hotel to a small Englishman telling a
tale which, had I been in his place, I should have
kept to myself.

" It doesn’t do,” said the little Englishman, " to
try and beat a German down. They don’t seem
to imderstand it. I saw a first edition of The
Robbers in a shop in the Georg Platz. I went
in and asked the price. It was a mm old chap
behind the counter. He said : ‘ Twenty-five marks,’
and went on reading. I told him I had seen a
better copy only a few days before for twenty —
one talks like that when one is bargaining ; it is
understood. He asked me ‘ Where ? ’ I told him
in a shop at Leipsig. He suggested my returning
there and getting it ; he did not seem to care
whether I Itought the book or whether I didn’t. I
said :

” ‘ What 's the least you will take for it ? '

" ‘ I have told 3'ou once,’ he answered ; ‘ twenty-
five marks.' He was an irritable old chap.

" I said : ‘ It ’s not worth it.’

” ‘ I never said it was, did I ? ’ he snapped.

" I said : ‘ I ’ll give you ten marks for it.'
I thought, maybe, he would end by taking
twent5^

" He rose. I took it he was coming round the
counter to get the book out. Instead, he came
straight up to me. He was a biggish sort of man.

256 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

. »

He took me by the two shoulders, walked me
out into, the street, and closed the door behind
me with a bang. I was never more surprised in
all my life."

" Maybe the book was worth twenty-five marks,”
I suggested.

" Of course it was," he replied ; " well worth it.
But what a notion of business ! ”

If anything change the German character, it wilf
be the German woman. She herself is changing
rapidly — advancing, as we call it. Ten years ago
no German woman caring for her reputation,
hoping for a husband, would have dared to ride a
bicycle ; to-day they spin about the country in their
thousands. The old folks shake their heads at
them ; but the young men, I notice, overtake them
and ride beside them. Not long ago it was con-
sidered unwomanly in Gennany for a lady to be
able to do the outside edge. Her proper skating
attitude was thought to be that of clinging limpness
to some male relative. ,Now she practises eights in
a comer by herself, until some young man comes
along to help her. She plays tennis, and, from a
point of safety, I have even noticed her driving a
dog-cart.

Brilliantly educated she always has been. At
eighteen she speaks two or three languages, and
has forgotten more than the average Englishwoman
has ever read. Hitherto, this education has been
utterly useless to her. On marriage she has retired
into the kitchen, and made haste to clear her brain
of everything else, in order to leave room for bad
cooking. But suppose it begins to dawn upon her
that a woman need not sacrifice her whole existence
to household drudgery any more than a man need

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

257

make himself nothing else than a business machine.
Suppose she develop an ambition to take part in the
social and national life. Then the influence of such
a partner, healthy in body and therefore vigorous
in mind, is bound to be both lasting and far-
reaching.

For it must be borne in mind that the German
man is exceptionally sentimental, and most^ easily
influenced by his women folk. It is said of him, he
is the best of lovers, the worst of husbands. This
has been the woman’s fault. Once married, the
German woman has done more than put romance
behind her; she has taken a carpet -beater and
driven it out of the house. As a girl, she never
understood dressing ; as a wife, she takes off such
clothes even as she had, and proceeds to wrap
herself up in any odd articles she may happen to
find about the house ; at all events, this is the
impression she produces. The figure that might
often be that of a Juno, the complexion that would
sometimes do credit to a healthy angel, she proceeds
of malice and intent to spoil. She sells her birth-
right of admiration and devotion for a mess of
sweets. Every afternoon you may see her at the
caf^, loading herself with rich cream-covered cakes,
washed down by copious draughts of chocolate. In
a short time she becomes fat, pasty, placid, and
utterly uninteresting.

When the German woman gives up her afternoon
coffee and her evening beer, takes sufficient exercise
to retain her shape, and continues to read after
marriage something else than the cookery book, the
German Government will find it has a new and
unknown force to deal with. And everywhere
throughout Germany one is confronted by unmis-

258 THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL

takable signs that the old German Frauen are
giving place to the newer Damen.

Concerning what will then happen one feels
curious. For the German nation is still young,
and its maturity is of importance to the world.
They are a good people, a lovable people, who
should help much to make the world better.

The worst that can be said against them is that
they have their failings. They themselves do not
know this ; they consider themselves perfect, which
is foolish of them. They even go so far as to
think themselves superior to the Anglo-Saxon :
this is incomprehensible. One feels they must be
pretending.

" They have their points,” said George ; ” but
their tobacco is a national sin. I ’m going to
bed.”

W'e rose, and leaning over the low stone parapet,
watched the dancing lights upon the soft, dark
river.

” It has been a pleasant Bummcl, on the
whole,” said Harris ; " I shall be glad to gel
back, and yet I am sorry it is over, if you under-
stand me.”

‘‘What is a ‘ Bummel ’ ? ” said George. “ Hc)w
would you translate it ? ”

“ A ‘ Bummel,’ ” I explained, “ I should describe
as a journey, long or short, without an end ; the
only thing regulating it being the necessity of
getting back within a given time to the point from
which one started. Sometimes it is through busy
streets, and sometimes through the fields and lanes ;
sometimes we can be spared for a few hours, and
sometimes for a few days. But long or short, but
here, or there, our thoughts are ever on the running

THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL ■»59

of the sand. We nod and smile to many as we
pass ; with some we stop and talk awhile ; and
with a few we walk a Uttle way. We have been
much interested, and often a little tired. But on
the whole we have had a pleasant time, and are
sorry when ’tis over."

THE END.

I’iilNTl.sG Ojtt’lci. Olr XillL rifULlbllEKS.